Taking the Fall
by starryeyedwr1ter
Summary: "The cops kinda beat it outta me that you guys were in Texas..." And that was just the beginning of his troubles. When Johnny and Pony leave town, the only person with the answers is Dallas Winston. NOW COMPLETE!
1. The Morning After

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the outsiders.**

**A.N: Just a thought I had about what happened to Dally when Pony and Johnny were at the church. Couldnt remember ever coming across a fan fic that covered it. Enjoy, review, and there will be more.**

Dallas woke with a pounding head, his ribs a painful reminder of the fight he and Tim Shepard had gotten into the previous night. He could scarcely remember what it had started over now. Oh yeah, Tim's slashed tyres.

He allowed himself a smile as he rolled over onto his stomach but then grimaced at the pain in his chest. Jesus, he needed some aspirin or something.

It was then that it came back to him. Johnny and the kid turning up last night, Johnny a quivering wreck and Pony drenched through like a drowned rat. Both terrified because they'd killed a soc. He almost laughed at the thought it was so ridiculous. Shit, maybe he'd dreamt it.

He opened one eye and scanned the room for any sign of his leather jacket. Nope, the jacket was gone. He really had given it to Pony last night, around the same time he'd handed Johnny his gun. The fucking irony of it, Johnny eyeing the gun like he could never use it just minutes after he'd stabbed some rich brat to death.

Dally sat up on the edge of the bed, his vision slightly blurred thanks to all the brandy he'd drank the night before. He'd just been planning to go to bed after the fight with Shepard but when Pony and Johnny had left he'd decided he better disappear for a while. He had a feeling that both Darry and the cops were gonna be looking for him once the story broke. So he'd decided to have a drink for the road and get the hell out of there. Unfortunately one drink had turned into two, two to three, and before he knew it he was in no state to go anywhere, he could scarcely make it back up the stairs.

Well, now was definitely time for him to get the hell away from Bucks, the first place anyone would look for him.

He was dressed in less than a minute and headed downstairs groggily. The difference in noise level between night and day at Bucks alway amazed him. Last night it had sounded like a rock concert and this morning, well this morning you could hear a pin drop.

His throat was dry from the hang over and he thought about grabbing a drink before he left but decided not to press his luck. It was a feat in itself that he hadn't been dragged out of bed by Darry Curtis already.

Dally's boots clanked heavily on the old wooden porch as he made his way out. He was almost down in the parking lot when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Rough night, Winston?"

Turning back quickly, he was relieved to see it was only Tim Shepard, clutching a cigarette and looking as bad as he felt. Dallas was gratified to see the blue black bruise that had formed under Tim's left eye. It made the pain in his ribs that much more bearable.

"Throw us a cancer stick," Dallas said exhaustedly. His pack had either gone missing or he had smoked twenty in his sleep. Either way, he would kill for a drag right now.

"Eat shit," Shepard responded dully.

Dallas turned away, knowing he didn't have time for an argument, knowing it could be minutes before somebody showed up looking to haul him to jail or kick him all over the parking lot.

"So where's Sylvia these days?" Tim called after him tauntingly. "Not up to giving her what she wants, huh Dal?"

_Keep walking, _Dallas ordered himself. _Keep walking, don't bite._

"Nah, just saving myself for your little sister, Shepard," his wayward mouth answered. It had always had a mind of its own.

He didn't hear Shepard steaming towards him until it was too late. After Tim leapt at him from behind, both boys went toppling forwards into the dirt.

"Get the fuck off!" Dallas cussed as Tim pinned him to the ground and aimed a blow at the back of his head. He groaned as he saw stars, and struggled to throw Tim off. Problem was, his ribs had taken the brunt of their fall and he could scarcely breathe now.

"Hey, Shepard and Winston are at it again!" Someone yelled from an upstairs window.

Dallas rolled his eyes. Broken ribs or not, he was no way gonna get beaten to a pulp in public. So he did the only thing a man can do when he's in a sticky situation. He got a hold of Tim's left arm and bit him. Hard.

"Holy fucking Christ!" Shepard bellowed as Dallas clung on with his teeth. With an elbow in the gut and a fair bit of wriggling, Dallas was finally free.

"Did you just bite me, you pussy?" Tim grunted in disbelief. They were both on their feet now, Dallas panting heavily and Tim staring in awe at the blood pouring from his bite wound.

"What's the problem? Your sister seems to like it," Dallas said through gulps of air. He didn't know why he couldn't shut up and walk away. A reputation was one hell of a thing to uphold.

Tim flew at him again and they started crossing the parking lot as they boxed. They were both hung over to hell, injured from the day before, and limping like geriatrics. Dallas decided Shepard's little sister could probably wipe the floor with the both of them at this moment in time.

Slowly, people started to traipse out of Bucks, some with OJ's, a few wearing no shoes, just to come outside and watch the festivities. Like he and Shepard throwing weak punches outside were actually something worth watching.

So much for a discreet fucking exit.

8888

Dallas wasn't sure when it was that the cops had showed up, but it must have been quite some time later because he remembered being actually relieved they were there. Imagine that, being relieved to see the feds when you were beating the life out of somebody. Well to be fair, Tim was giving just as good as he got. Dallas could scarcely stand by the time he felt the rough arm of Officer Carter propel him backwards and out of Tim's reach.

"Ah, Dallas Winston, just the man," Carter said with familiarity as he pulled Dallas' arm behind his back.

Dallas felt his ribs scream in protest and had to bite his lip to stop himself shouting out. Across from him he could see Shepard getting the same treatment from a younger officer. Of course, without so much conviction and pleasure. This was not his morning. How fucking typical that he got man handled by Carter, who had been up his arse for the last three years, while Tim got the rookie.

Buck was standing close by, a cigar clamped between his crooked teeth as he watched the proceedings. Dallas could tell he was pissed that the cops were here again but he said nothing aloud, just continued to smoke his cigar. The crowd was starting to disperse now, many people too young or too familiar to the cops to want to call attention to themselves.

"We were just on our way to find you when we got the call about a fight," Carter said, almost happily. "What do you know about two kids killing a boy in the park last night?"

"What you talking about? What fucking kids?" Dallas winced as Carter tugged on his arm tighter.

"One Ponyboy Curtis and one Johnathan Cade."

"Haven't seen 'em all week," Dallas lied, bucking against Carter's grip but only ending up at a more painful angle.

"Well, that's funny 'cause we got told that they were both here last night asking for you," Carter said sarcastically.

Dallas shot an angry look at Buck. He was the one who had opened the door to Pony and Johnny last night. Big mouth fool. Buck shrugged helplessly.

"So now we know you got something to hide," Carter grinned. "And thanks to your scrap with Timothy, we got every reason to haul you in."

His mouth was suffocatingly close to Dallas' face and he stank of coffee. It made Dallas want to puke.

"What you got to say to that, huh Winston?" Carter gave his arm another twist for good measure.

"If you're gonna haul me in, fucking do it," Dallas growled. "Just quit breathing on me, you fat fuck, before I pass out."

Carter instantly whipped out his baton and after he delivered an expert blow to the head, Dallas did in fact, pass out.


	2. The Interview

**Thanks to the people who have reviewed so far. If you do read this and like it, please leave a review, it'll only take you a minute :) **

**Oh and there's an asterix thief on fanfiction, so I have the number 8 for scene breaks.**

Dallas was in a jail cell when he came to. His head hurt something awful, and he felt sick as hell. He crawled over to the toilet and wretched a few times before sitting back and leaning against the wall. What a fucking day this was turning out to be.

He wondered if Johnny and Pony had made it to Jay mountain alright. Fucking pain in the ass kids. Johnny couldn't have aimed for an arm or a leg, no he had to go and kill the guy. Now they were probably holed up safely in the church and he was here, beaten, sick and thirsty as fuck in a jail cell.

He thought back dully to that morning. Why had he made a dig at Shepard's sister? Why couldn't he have just kept walking?

'_You never know when to keep that trap shut!' _His old man had shouted at him every day of his life. He was actually inclined to agree with the miserable bastard now.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Carter appeared at the cell door.

"Well, look who's up," he grinned.

"Fuck you, man," Dallas croaked. "And where the hell is Shepard?"

"Probably tucked up safely in bed. Like you could be if you start talking. You regained your memory yet, Winston?"

"I remember just fine, Carter," Dallas shot back. "You brushed your teeth yet?"

Carter glared daggers at Dallas through the bars before nodding at the jail officer behind him.

"Bring him down for interview," was all he said.

8888

Dallas lay on the floor of the interview room while Carter, his rookie friend and the jail officer took turns in beating him. He had given up trying to get up by now, instead he kept his arms protectively over his ribs.

"You got something you wanna tell us, Winston?" Carter panted as he kicked out at him heavily, his boot connecting with the base of Dallas's spine.

"Yeah, you hit like a fag," Dallas gasped. Christ, he felt that pain all the way up to his neck. They were gonna kill him at this rate.

"Right, that's it. Get him up!" Carter exploded. His face was red with both anger and exertion, but he was no way done with Dallas Winston yet.

Dallas found himself being hauled to his feet and discovered he couldn't keep his balance on his own. That didn't seem to bother Carter. He grabbed Dallas by the front of his shirt and pushed him over the interview desk roughly.

"Listen here, you fucking scumbag," Carter barked venomously. "I got a dead body on my hands, two teenage suspects who have disappeared into thin air and the only trail that's been left behind is you. I got the chief breathing down my fucking neck every second of the day and if he doesn't get hold of those boys it'll be my head on the plate, which means I'll have_ your_ head on the plate! You dig?"

It was funny how when he got mad, Carter dropped back into street slang. He'd been a greaser back in the day, not that you'd ever know it now; he'd gone out of his way to erase almost every trace of his humble beginnings, but nobody forgot in this neighbourhood. Least of all Dallas.

"Guess the chief wouldn't have such a hard on for the suspects if it was a greaser kid that got totalled, huh Carter?" Dallas turned and spat some blood from his swollen mouth.

"I don't give a shit if they were rich, poor, black, white or Chinese," Carter shook Dallas threateningly. "If you don't start talking, Winston, you won't be able to for a long, long time."

Dallas looked Carter in the eye then. Carter meant it, he meant every word and Dallas knew he'd be lucky to walk out of here alive if he carried on refusing to talk. It's not like anyone would give a shit if they killed him right here and now, except the gang of course, but what the fuck could they do about it?

"Start talking, Winston," Carter sucker punched him and Dallas groaned agonisingly.

"Alright, alright!" he held up a hand to restrain him. "But no one hears this came from me, alright? I don't want people thinking I'm a rat,"

"Oh yeah," said the jail officer dryly. "Cos Winston is such a stand up name in these parts."

"Shut it," Carter silenced him by holding up a hand. "Go on, Winston, where are Curtis and Cade?"

"They're headed for Texas," Dallas mumbled.

"You got an address?"

"No, _they_ don't got a fucking address. They're not going on vacation."

The interview room fell silent before Carter let go of Dallas and turned on the younger officer.

"Well, you heard him," he barked. "Go make some calls, make sure every cop in the Texan state is looking for those two hood rats,"

Dallas slid down the desk and hit the floor with a thud.

"What about him?" The jail officer nodded down at Dallas' slumped form.

Carter looked down distractedly as though he had already forgotten Dallas were there.

"I'll get someone to drop him off somewhere. The last thing we need is him going past the front desk looking like that."

Dallas closed his eyes. Hallelujah. At least he was getting the fuck out of here.

8888

Two cops dumped him outside of Bucks about a half hour later. He felt like shit and wanted nothing more than a shower and a cigarette. Christ, how long had it been since he'd had a smoke?

It was getting dark now and he wondered how long he'd been unconscious for at the station.

Buck came to the screen door as Dallas limped up the front steps.

"Christ, Shepard really did a number on ya, didn't he Dal?" He marvelled.

"Fuck off, Buck," Dallas grumbled, still pissed that Buck had told the cops about Pony and Johnny showing up last night. "The cops did this, not Shepard."

The last thing he needed was a rumour getting out that Tim had creamed him. Their fight had ended up on a pretty much even keel before the cops had showed.

"Darrel Curtis came by looking for you," Buck informed him, stepping back so Dallas could come inside. "I told him the cops took you in."

"Yeah, what else d' you tell him?" Dallas asked warily. If Darry knew Pony and Johnny had been here last night, Dallas was pretty much a dead man.

"Nothing. He asked if I'd seen his kid brother and I said no."

"Terrific," Dallas snapped. "If you coulda said the same thing to that dipshit Carter, you coulda saved me a whole heap of trouble."

"Quit your belly aching," Buck retorted. "You didn't tell me it was a damn secret now, did ya?"

Too tired for an argument, Dallas held out a hand expectantly.

"You got a cigarette?"

Buck reached into his shirt pocket and took out a box of cigarettes, holding one out to Dallas.

Dallas ignored the single cigarette and took the box instead, ignoring Buck's angry protest.

"Thanks Buck, you're a pal," he called over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs to his room.

8888

He slept for twelve hours straight after his shower, seven til seven, not stirring even momentarily as a party raged on below in the bar. He had a dream that Johnny was banging on the door outside but he didn't remember much else after that.

The bar was silent when he awoke at seven, the way it always was at that hour. Dallas sat up cautiously and stretched; first both arms and then each of his long legs. He was sore in places but nothing was broken at least. The power of sleep.

Last night he'd felt like he'd been in a car crash. He'd even turned down sex with Sylvia after she'd wandered upstairs as he was getting out the shower. Of course, he told her he wouldn't touch her if she was the last girl on earth and just to look at her made him sick. Truth was, she looked real good, and smelt good too, but he just didn't have it in him. Christ, what had the world come to when he was turning down sex in favour of sleep?

On top of everything else, he was half starved, having only eaten a sandwich that one of the barmaids had thrown together and sent up out of pity once she found out where he'd been all day. He probably would have invited her up when her shift had ended if he coulda stayed awake that long. Johnny better as hell be grateful for the last twenty four hours.

Dallas reached over to his nightstand and picked up a lighter and Buck's cigarettes, sticking one between his teeth and then wincing at the pulsing in his ribs. He flopped back onto the bed and lit up lazily, wishing he could fall back to sleep but knowing it wasn't going to happen.

He might as well get his ass up and over to the Curtis'. If he didnt show up there soon, they'd know he was hiding something. He was often a hard man to get hold of but if one of the gang left a message or needed help, he'd turn up guaranteed. That was a given.

Not that he was relishing the idea of facing Darry. Dallas wasn't scared of anybody and there were few men he respected, but Darry was one of them. Sure, he worked like a chump to keep his brothers and he was a bit of a killjoy sometimes but he was a pretty savvy guy and he wasn't scared of Dally like everyone else. Dallas liked it when people stood up to him.

He dressed quickly, throwing on a shirt, nearly clean jeans and his old cowboy boots. Now all he needed was a ride but he knew no one would be up at this hour. He'd have to ask Buck if he could borrow his car but he didnt fancy his chances after stealing his cigarettes last night.

Dallas stole deftly out of his room and down the hallway to the oldest part of the house where Buck's shabby self contained apartment was. As usual, he must have gone to bed drunk because he'd left the apartment door unlocked. Fucking moron. He was gonna get cleaned out one of these days.

Dallas could hear Buck snoring almost at once and followed the noise down the hall and into his bedroom where Buck lay on his back, the blanket tangled up around him and his mouth wide open.

Just what you needed to see before breakfast.

And right beside him, on top of his bureau, sat the keys to his ride. Bingo.

The keys were in his hands in a matter of seconds and he wondered whether Buck would report the car stolen when he woke up. Probably not. When he realised both Dallas and the car were gone, he'd do the math. Dally supposed he'd been giving Buck a hard time of it lately just bcause he knew he could. There was no way that Buck would throw him out, not with all the money he'd make for him in rodeo season.

Dallas toyed with the idea of leaving the stolen cigarettes behind as compensation for taking the car, he could just take one for the ride to the Curtis' and leave the box behind. Then he told himself to man the fuck up, dropped two down on Buck's bureau and shoved the pack back into his jeans. He was getting fucking soft in his old age.


	3. Texas

**A.N: Thanks to all those who have reviewed and particular thanks to some blue december for all her concrit and whatcoloristhesky for only needing her arm twisted to a 90 degree angle...**

The Curtis house was quiet when he pulled up outside. Usually by this time you could hear the guys halfway down the street but the curtains were still closed, the only sign of the Curtis boys being home was Darry's old truck parked in the drive. Two Bit's hunk of junk was also outside so obviously he'd crashed over too.

Jesus, it was cold out here. He was half frozen the moment he opened the car door but that was what he got for handing out his jacket to juvenile delinquents. He grinned softly to himself thinking that the worst trouble Pony had probably been in before this was forgetting his homework or coming home past curfew. Well, he was way past curfew now, up on a murder charge, and Darry- well he wasn't looking forward to seeing Darry right now.

Sighing, Dallas leapt out of Buck's car, slammed the driver door shut and hopped up onto the porch, ready to face the music. Yanking open the screen door, he let himself into the house without hesitation, the same way he always had.

Dallas was more than a little surprised to see that Darry, Steve and Two Bit were sitting up in the living room, all dressed and awake. Not only that, but they weren't talking at all, just glued to the television screen. It was as though they hadn't even heard him enter.

Two Bit was leaned so far forward on the couch his beer was liable to topple over at any second. Jeez, even for Two Bit it was early to be drinking, Dallas observed, but then he tended to go on a binge whenever there was a crisis.

Darry was clutching the sides of his armchair so hard that his knuckles had turned white but the biggest shocker was the creases in his t shirt. Either he'd slept in that shirt or he hadn't ironed it. Either way, that just wasn't Darry.

Steve's face was impassive as usual, but then he rarely gave anything away.

"Howdy fellas," Dallas called with fake cheer.

"SSsh!" Steve hushed him, pointing at the television.

He darted a look at the screen and could scarcely believe it when he saw Johnny and Pony's pictures being shown. Man, he was fucking jealous.

"Local authorities say they have been given inside information that leads them to believe the suspects are headed for Texas," the reporter gabbled. "If you see either of these boys, you are advised to call the police immediately. Do not approach them as they may be dangerous."

"Fucking dangerous!" Dallas started to laugh from the doorway and it was only then that everybody turned to look at him. "Maybe someone should tell them that Pony's scared of sleeping alone and Johnny gets upset when there's a dead deer in the road."

His laughter was met with a stony silence and then Darry got to his feet, his eyes fixed on Dallas firmly.

"I'm only gonna ask you this once, Dal. Where the hell is my little brother?"

Dallas shrugged and leaned against the door frame, his expression innocent.

"Fucked if I know," he said as casually as he could.

_Wrong answer._

Darry ran at him with arms outstretched, reminding Dallas exactly why he'd been the star of his school football team. Fuck, he woulda scared Dally if he had any fear left in him.

The tackle still caught him off guard though and they both fell headlong into the hallway. Dallas groaned as a pain shot through his ribs and he was reminded of yesterdays wounds.

"Where the hell is he, Dallas?" Darry was yelling, his hands around Dal's neck, spitting saliva into his face.

Boy, he was really worked up, Dallas thought. He hadn't ever seen him this mad, but Dallas was getting pretty mad himself. If it wasn't for him, his little brother would be in a jail cell right now. Maybe he should fucking tell him that.

As soon as Darry flew at him, Steve and Two Bit were out of their seats, trying in vain to separate the two. Darry tightened his grip despite the headlock Steve had him in. As Dallas struggled, he started to feel faint. Just great; he'd survived a run in with Shepard and then the cops just to be killed by Darrel Curtis in his hallway. What a way to fucking go.

"Come on, Dar, ease off him, he can't tell you nothing if you kill him now, can he?"

'_Yeah, real smart, Two Bit. 'Atta boy'._

Steve had a good hold on Darry now and finally managed to make him drop his grip. Dallas sat up gasping for air just as Soda made an appearance in the hall.

"Jesus, you guys, what the hell is going on?" He demanded, seeing Dallas panting and Steve wrestling with Darry on the floor. It didn't take long for Darry to pin him so Two Bit waded in as well.

"Ask Old Man Curtis," Dallas wheezed. "He just tried to fucking kill me."

He noticed Soda's eyes were red and puffy, his skin pale and his cheeks sallow. It reminded Dally of the look he'd taken on after his parent had died and that made him uneasy.

"Where the hell is Ponyboy, Dallas? I know you know!" Darry yelled furiously, trying to get up again but being smothered by Two Bit mid sentence.

"I'm gonna let this go 'cause I know you're pissed about what's happened." Dallas got to his feet indignantly and turned to Soda. "I just came to see if there was any news."

"Guys, quit it!" Soda yelled, as Darry flung Steve into the wall. "This ain't helping none."

Darry got to his feet, his voice shaking as he faced Dallas again.

"Dallas, look me in the eye and tell me that Pony and Johnny didn't come to you when they left the park,"

Dallas kept eye contact as he held up his hands in defence.

"Why the fuck would they come to me when they could come to any one of you guys?"

There was a silence as Darry considered this question.

"'Cause that's what I would do," he answered quietly.

'_Ah Darry, now you've gone and made me feel like an asshole,' _Dallas couldn't help but think. Still, he gave him a long stare and said:

"I haven't seen them Dar, that's the truth."

"You see?" Steve said to Darry. "He ain't seen 'em. Just like I said."

Dallas didn't know if Steve really believed this or if he was just trying to diffuse the situation but either way he was at least backing him up.

"Then why'd the cops haul you in?" Darry was looking less sure of himself now and Dallas knew that half the battle was over.

"Got into another fight with Shepard and someone called 'em. Nothing to do with the kid, man."

Darry finally nodded and trudged back into the living room. Two Bit followed, leaving Steve to fill Soda in on what he'd missed.

"They were on the news again. Apparently, they're headed for Texas."

Dallas watched Steve carefully. At least someone was holding it together. Two Bit looked like he'd been drunk for two days, Darry was acting like a maniac and Soda was about ready to burst into tears at any given moment.

"Texas?" Soda echoed as he and Dallas trailed behind Steve toward the living room. "Why in the world would they go to Texas?"

"'Cause it ain't here," Two Bit shrugged. "Say, why don't we go out there and look for them? I bet we'd have a whole lot more luck than the fuzz. We know the kinda places they'd hide out in, the same places we would."

He was looking at Darry for a response just as they all were. He appeared to things through before he answered.

"I don't wanna go anywhere in case he comes home. I wanna be here when he-" Darry's voice broke and everybody looked at him in horror as he tried to disguise a sob with a cough. Superman cracking was not what they were used to. Even when his parents had died, he'd kept it together. Soda went over and put a comforting hand on his shoulder while the others looked on awkwardly.

"Hell, I'll go!" Two Bit offered suddenly. "I'll go on my lonesome if I have to. If they're there, I'll find 'em."

"Don't be so fucking stupid," Dallas spat, thinking that maybe he should let Two Bit go just for being such a pain in the ass.

"What's stupid about it?" Soda asked him suspiciously.

"Well for starters, how's he gonna get to Texas?"

"In my car," Two Bit said in a slow voice, as though Dallas were mentally impaired.

"That fucking thing? You're lucky if it makes it to the end of the street most days, let alone outta state. And even if you did get to Texas, you know how fucking big it is? It'll be like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"He's right," Steve agreed. "If Johnny and Pony made it to Texas the cops probably won't find 'em. I'll bet anything they call us soon."

Everybody automatically looked at the telephone. Everyone asides Dallas that is, and Soda, who was staring at Dallas intently. Dallas averted his eyes and it was then that Two Bit stood up, jingling his car keys.

"I'll go take another drive around, see if anyone's seen anything," he said glumly. "You need a ride to work, Steve?"

"Yeah." Steve turned to Dallas, Darry and Soda. "You guys coming?"

Darry shook his head, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"No, I'm gonna head back down the cop shop, see what those idiots are doing," he sighed. Dallas hoped against hope that Darry didn't talk to Carter while he was there. He would have a hell of a time talking himself out of that one.

"And I better stay here in case he calls," Soda said. "Wanna hang, Dallas? I'm making breakfast. Two Bit ate mine while I was in the shower."

"Hey, all this private detective stuff is hungry work," Two Bit protested. "Whaddya want from me?"

Dallas' stomach was rumbling something awful and he didn't fancy going on a wild goose chase for Johnny and Pony anyway so he nodded.

"Yeah, I'll stay a while," he told Soda. "But no fucking green pancakes, Curtis. Pancakes just ain't meant to be green."

"Sure thing, Dal, just plain then," Soda agreed, but he didn't crack his trademark smile and Dallas hoped he wouldn't start bawling on him over breakfast. "I'll see you guys later. Call me if any of y'all hear anything."

Steve, Two Bit and Darry said their goodbyes before trooping outside. Darry's shoulders were stooped and his walk was heavy. Dallas actually started to feel sorry for the guy despite the fact he'd just tried to cut off his air supply.

When the door banged shut behind them, Dallas followed Soda into the kitchen and collapsed in a chair at the kitchen table.

"So what's the latest, Middle Curtis?" He asked, propping his feet up on a second chair and lighting up a cigarette. He tossed the pack onto the table and looked over at Soda who was rummaging through a kitchen drawer.

"Huh?" Soda asked distractedly. "Uh- nothing except all this hell with Pony. Me and Darry are both offa work until we find him...if we find him..."

Soda trailed off miserably, pausing for a second before he remembered what he was looking for and pulled out a pad and pen from the drawer.

He sat down opposite Dallas and started to scribble furiously in a childish hurried scrawl. Dallas looked at him curiously.

"What the hell are you doing? Drawing me some breakfast? What happened to the pancakes?" he asked, blowing smoke across the table as he tried to peer over.

Soda shielded the pad with his hands and carried on scribbling so Dallas sighed and leaned back in his chair.

Finally Soda stopped writing, ripped the page from the pad and folded it neatly.

"Here," he said, holding the folded paper out to Dallas. Dallas took it slowly and opened it out.

"What the fuck is this?"

"It's for Pony," Soda said evenly, fixing his brown eyes on Dallas' blue ones. "Make sure he gets it."

Dallas looked up from the letter to Soda's stubborn expression, before he tossed the paper onto the table top.

"And how the hell am I gonna do that? I told you, I got no clue where they are."

"And I know that's bullshit, Dal," Soda said, setting his jaw in a determined line.

Dally had never noticed it before but he looked an awful lot like Darry when he was pissed. Well, of course he hadn't noticed, he'd probably seen Sodapop mad about three times since he'd known him. He even fought at rumbles with a grin on his face, Dally had seen it for himself.

"Oh, you do, huh?" Dallas leaned back on the back legs of his chair as he smoked, feeling amused by Soda's certainty. "What makes you say that?"

"Three things actually," Soda countered. "Number one being, I know my brother and there's no way in hell he'd disappear without a word to anyone. He and Johnny wouldn't have made it a mile from here on their own."

"Well, maybe they did tell someone but it sure as hell weren't me." Dallas shrugged.

"Number two," Soda continued. "As worried as we are about Pony, you don't seem too bothered about Johnnycakes. If you didn't know where he was, you'd be yelling the house down."

"He's a big boy. Big enough to stab a Soc, big enough to take care of himself. Johnny'll be fine," Dallas responded, all the while thinking that he should've thought about faking some sort of reaction. He should have at least asked some more questions when he got here earlier but hell, he hadn't had a minute to think the last two days, what with getting into it with Tim, and then spending most of yesterday at the station.

"Okay, hit me with number three," he said mockingly, putting his cigarette out in a grubby ashtray and waving a beckoning hand at Sodapop.

"Well, the cops reckon that the Soc's tried to drown Pony in the fountain," Soda said pointedly. "So he woulda been soaking wet when he got to you. Must say, Dal, it's pretty strange to see you out in this weather without your jacket."

_Damn wise guy._

Dallas didn't know how Soda had got the rep as the dumb Curtis. He wasn't responsible like Darry, and he sure wasn't book smart like the kid was but Sodapop Curtis had more street smarts than anybody gave him credit for. That was for sure.

"It got wrecked when I was fighting with Tim. Jesus, Soda, you're worse than the fucking feds. You ever think about leaving the DX and becoming a cop? I could use a friend down at the station,"

He was laughing as he said this because it was obvious Soda wasn't buying any of it. He was still staring Dallas down but then he gave in, his face earnest and pleading as he leant across the table, picked up the letter and refolded it.

"Come on, Dal, all I'm asking you to do is take the letter. If you really don't know where he is, than just do it to humour a buddy, huh? I'd do the same for you if you didn't know where Johnny was."

"I _don't_ fucking know where Johnny is!" Dallas snapped. Boy, his head was hurting. He'd only stayed for breakfast and so far, the only thing he'd been fed was aggravation.

"Just take it." Soda finally grabbed Dallas' shirt and stuffed the letter in his top pocket. "You take the letter, I'll make pancakes, and we won't mention this again. Deal?"

Dallas let out an exasperated sigh but then shrugged. Jesus, he was hungry.

"If it makes you feel better, pal, I'll hold on to the stupid letter."

"Good," Soda got up and started opening cupboards, slamming ingredients satisfyingly onto the counter. The punk was pretty proud of himself for getting his own way. Still, there was no need to shatter his fucking eardrums in the process.

"Will you stop banging around? " He complained, putting a finger to his ear. "It's like being on a demolition site, and put that green food dye back in the fucking cupboards. I aint eating no green pancakes!"

Soda turned round with another bottle in his hand, his smile slightly mischievous although not completely whole hearted.

"Pink?" He offered instead.

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	4. A Father's Love

**A.N: Is anybody still reading this? Let me know what you think, kind of wondering whether or not to discontinue this fic...**

Dallas decided to head back home after the Curtis', his stomach full and his body tired. He had the kind of dreary headache that came from sheer exhaustion and even though he'd slept the night through, he knew he could probably sleep for the rest of the day now that he'd eaten.

The plan was to go home and grab a few hours before the evening came around. He needed a change of clothes anyhow since everything he had at Bucks was bordering on unhygienic. He hadn't gone back to his Dad's place in what seemed like forever and there was good reason for that, but he was damned if he was gonna be seen in the local Laundromat doing his laundry like some pansy assed domestic type.

His old man would probably be at work anyways so the coast should be clear.

Should be were the key words in his optimism, because nothing seemed to go to plan lately.

Dallas cursed when he pulled up outside and saw his old man's buick parked up outside. He sat motionless for a while as he contemplated his options. So the bastard wasn't at work, he was home. With any luck, he would be asleep hung over and if he wasn't, well he could just grab his clothes and get the hell out of there.

He couldn't exactly remember the last time he'd seen his Dad but he was pretty sure he hadn't pissed him off too much so things should be relatively cool.

Dallas came in through the back door into the kitchen, opening the refridgerator out of habit as he passed. He stuck his head inside then recoiled at the foul smell it was emitting. Two cans of beer, a lump of mouldy cheese and a half eaten sandwich stared back at him. Man, no wonder he never came home.

He stood leaning on the fridge door, his head cocked to one side as he listened for his father's heavy footsteps. Hearing nothing, he leaned inside and pulled out one of the beers, popping it open and taking a big swig as he left the room.

His father was slouched in his armchair in the living room, arms folded with a mean looking scowl on his face. Dallas realised straight away that his father wasn't in a beer sharing mood but the damage was done now and the beer had been noticed, so there wasn't very much he could do about it.

"What's happenin, Ed?" Dallas took a swig of the beer and smirked at his father, that irritating smirk that his father used to slap off his face on a weekly basis. Not anymore though, not since he turned thirteen and the slaps just made him smirk harder.

Even considering past experiences, Dallas didn't see the near empty whisky bottle coming towards him. It whistled past his ear and shattered on the kitchen door behind him, making him duck his head and curse, even though he ducked way after the bottle passed him by. Good job his Pops was such a lousy shot.

Edward Winston was out of his chair in a flash, his considerable girth not slowing him down as much as it should.

"Why don't you tell me, you little sonuvabitch?"

Dallas looked at his father in vague surprise. All this over a fucking beer? He supposed he should have been offended at the sonuvabitch comment and kicked his father's ass all the way round the block. Problem was, old Eddie had a point. His mom _was _a bitch.

"What the fuck is your problem?"

Dallas was standing his ground but his ribs hurt like hell and he knew from experience his old man had a viscious temper. Sometimes worse than his own.

"My problem is I had the fucking cops round here at six o clock this morning pounding the door down looking for ya. What the hell have you done now, you little shit?"

_Nothing,_ Dallas wanted to yell from the rooftops. _For once in my life, I haven't done a fucking thing._

Instead, he shrugged with indifference.

"Case of mistaken identity, Pops."

Dallas had called his father Eddie since he was ten and the only time he said Pops these days, the word was layered with sarcasm. He knew it pissed his father off no end.

Eddie wasn't much good at arguing. Dallas decided it was because he had limited brain power but whatever the reason was, whenever an argument would start heating up, Eddie would lose it and throw a punch.

It had earned him one hell of a reputation when he was a younger man; everybody in Tulsa had been wary of him back then. Ten years later, having consumed enough alcohol to fill a brewery, Edward Winston was nothing but a washed up has been. It didn't stop him throwing those opening punches though.

The fists started swinging as soon as the word 'Pops' left Dallas' mouth. The room was filled with thuds and grunts as father and son duked it out. The stolen beer met it's end on the dirty carpet. There had been a time when the fight would have lasted just seconds, when Eddie would have wiped the floor with him and Dallas would have limped off to the emergency room, but that was history now. Dallas was quicker than Ed, he was also smarter and sharper and avoided two out of every three blows with ease. Of course, when the occasional one did hit him, it hurt like a mother, but Dallas gave as good as he got.

One time he had gotten into a discussion with Shepard about people who hit their own fathers. Larry Harris, one of Tim's gang members, was in the cooler for getting into it with his old man and Tim was disgusted.

'The guy's pushing fucking fifty," he'd said in distaste, "and Harris gave him the pounding of his life. You wait 'til they let that punk out. He's gonna wish he'd let his old man kick the shit out of him."

Dallas was watching Tim's irritated expression in mild confusion. What was it to him what went on with Harris and his old man?

"And what's he sposed to do? Stand there and take it?" He questioned, coolly lighting up a cigarette. He was thinking about his own father and the moral implications of pounding him back every Saturday night.

"He should do enough to be able to walk the fuck away," Tim spat. "Real men don't beat on the people that brought them into the world."

Dallas laughed and called Shepard a pussy but on his walk home he had thought over what Tim had said. Maybe by hitting his Dad he was breaking some unwritten rule, like not ratting to the cops or not sleeping with your friend's sister, that kinda thing. Shepard was one of the most street smart people Dallas knew, so if he thought so, then maybe it was true.

So when his father started in on him two days later, Dallas held up his hands, told his Dad he wasn't gonna swing at him, and left his nose wide open for old Eddie to break. Which inevitably, he did.

Of course, Dallas told everyone he'd gotten into it with a Brumley boy, but word of that got round fast and the next thing he knew, some fifteen year old Brumley recruit had started taking the credit. The kid was some pimple faced pot head who had only gotten in on his brothers rep for Christ's sake. That had really pissed Dallas off.

First off he took his ass over to Brumley territory where he kicked the living shit out of the pot head and his big brother, then he went home to piss off his Dad and initiate a rematch. From then on in, he fought Ed just like he would anyone else. With no mercy.

Fuck Tim and his self righteous bullshit. It must be hard being such a fucking hero all the time.

"You had enough, you little runt?"

Dallas and Eddie were now eyeing each other up from opposite sides of the room, a brief resting between rounds, both panting with exertion, neither wanting to be the first to surrender. Dallas was used to the routine by now.

"Not unless you have, old man."

He was starting to think that maybe God was pissed off at him for getting Johnny and Pony the hell out of here. Maybe aiding murderers, juvenile ones included, meant eternal fucking damnation because he was sure as hell having the worst week he could fucking remember. The fight with Shepard, which he usually enjoyed, had been a pain in the ass, the cops beating the crap out of him he could have also done without, and Darry accusing him of getting the kids out of town while Soda looked on with puppy dog eyes had not been a particular highlight either. Now he was fighting with Ed, which wouldn't be so bad if he had actually managed to grab some clothes first. In effect, all he'd achieved in being here was getting a good fucking hiding.

"Just get out of here, you piece of shit." Ed was tired, Dallas could hear it in his voice and here was the part where he'd use the 'get off my damn property' line. It was the same drill every time.

"Get off my damn property before I call the cops to come get you."

Every time. Edward Winston was so damn predictable it was almost pathetic. He stood there in a stained t-shirt and his too tight pants with black circles under his eyes and the red cheeks of an obvious alcoholic, and that was the only word that sprang to Dallas' mind. Pathetic.

"I'm gone, you sack of shit."

He straightened up and without another word, started for the front door. Ed had given him an out and with the way his ribcage was screaming, he sure as hell wasn't gonna pass it up. Fuck the clothes, all he wanted to do was get back to Bucks and go to sleep.

That drafty fucking church on Jay Mountain was growing more appealing every day.

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**Review and tell me what you think. Even if you think it sucked. :)**


	5. Her Romeo

**A.N: This is for some blue december who may as well be my beta since she goes through every chapter with a fine tooth comb. Thanks for all your help and as requested, here's some Sylvia. And also, it's a little for whatcoloristhesky without whom this chapter would not be possible (through dumb luck you could say! Ha ha). **

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, anyone else who's reading and not reviewing, don't be shy.**

**Anyway enough of the oscar acceptance speech.**

**Here we go...**

"Sylvia! Psst! Syl!"

Dallas let out another low whistle, the way he usually did underneath Sylvia's window out of hours. Well, lately it had been in hours too. Sylvia's family, particularly her older brother, Carl, didn't think much of Dallas.

It was gone eleven at night and her curfew was ten pm on a school night although she'd never actually admit she had a curfew. It had taken a while for Dallas to work out that she always made some excuse to leave just after nine thirty, unless it was the weekend of course. He noticed more than she thought he did.

"Sylvia!"

Dallas ducked down behind the conifer hedge that ran down the side of the building, hoisting the rucksack he carried higher on his shoulder. Sylvia lived in a two storey house not ten minutes walk from his Dad's place. Her Mom, a single parent, was a gardener so the lawn and hedges were always immaculate. The exterior of the house had seen better days but it sure beat the hell out of his place.

"Hey, Syl!" Dallas raised his voice, getting annoyed now. He knew she was home, her bedroom light was on, and he didn't appreciate being ignored, especially when it was this cold and he didn't have a jacket._ Particularly_ when she'd been seen in some guys lap while he was in jail.

So he'd told her to go to hell the night before, big deal. That was nothing in comparison to her making an idiot of him for the umpteenth time. Jesus, all he wanted was his laundry done, just some clean clothes so he wasn't walking around scared to lift up an armpit. Christ, was that so much to ask?

Irritated, he scrabbled around until he found a large stone, and pulled back his arm, launching it at Sylvia's window. Unfortunately, it was just about then that Sylvia decided to open it. The stone hit her hard on the shoulder.

"Ow! What the hell, Winston? You tryna kill me?"

Sylvia glared down towards the hedge where Dallas was now rolling around with laughter. He hadn't meant to hit her but if she'd come to the damn window in the first place it wouldn't have happened.

"Oh, get out of here!" She started to close the window again and he realised that his chances of wearing clean clothes tomorrow were fading quickly.

"Hey, hold up a minute!" he called up to her, coming out from behind the hedge and straightening up. "Who's home? Can I come up?"

Sylvia pursed her rosy lips as he stood underneath the window feeling like a complete jack ass.

"What for?" She said stubbornly.

Dallas sighed and ran a hand through his white blond hair, resisting the urge to start cussing her out.

"Listen, Syl, I ain't gonna start serenading you like some kind of fucking romeo. Either you let me up or I'm gone."

She paused, but only for a second before she relented.

"I guess you can come up. Carl's not home, but my Mom's in bed, so be quiet."

They both knew that the bottle of wine Mrs Green consumed every night before bed kept her pretty much unconscious until morning, but Dallas didn't bring it up. Now didn't seem like a good time to start calling her Mom a wino.

He was up the drainpipe in seconds and balanced precariously with one foot on the sill until Sylvia pushed the window open to its fullest extent and moved out of his way. He still had a dull pain in his ribs but after the sleep he'd had at Bucks he was feeling a whole lot better than that morning.

"I thought the cops hauled you in. That whole mess with Sodapop's brother?"

She was eyeing him coolly with stunning blue green eyes, her blond hanging in loose ringlets around her heart shaped face.

"They did."

Dallas looked round Sylvia's room with familiarity. He'd almost died of shock the first time he'd seen it. It was tidy and pristine, a real girly girls room with floral wallpaper and pretty drapes. Even her makeup was in strict order, rows and rows of bottles and powders lining the white dresser against the far wall. Getting ready for the day was like a military operation for Sylvia. If Dallas had to wait for her, he usually fell asleep or got pissed off and left.

"Damn, Dal, you smell awful," Sylvia took a dramatic step away from him wrinkling her nose and he resisted the urge to punch her in it. He swore that she was only so mouthy because she knew she could get away with it. The joys of being a broad.

"Well, that's why I'm here," he shrugged off the rucksack he was carrying and dumped it at her feet. "Be a doll and wash me some clothes."

Sylvia's mouth hung open as she looked first down at the bag and then back up at his cocksure face.

"Are you _high_?" She yelled, kicking the bag towards him and then pushing him with all her might. "You think you can just stroll in with your _laundry _after the way you treated me yesterday?"

He clenched and unclenched his fists.

"Well, look, I can stand here stinking from now until I get 'em washed elsewhere or you can do it for me. You owe me anyways."

He tried to keep his voice even and not to react to the push she'd given him. She made him madder than anyone he knew, even his old man, but Dallas didn't hit women. He put women beaters somewhere up there with rapists and child molesters. They were scum. But God, he wanted to pound Sylvia sometimes.

""Well, you can stand there stinking then," Sylvia folded her arms over her full breasts and narrowed her blue green eyes at him. Damn, she was hot when she was angry. She knew it too, he could see the slight smile to her lips as he ran his eyes over her body.

"As long as you don't mind," he said, coming forward and putting a rough hand on the nape of her neck.

"Eugh, get off me!" She struggled for a moment as he pulled her towards him but as soon as he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, she relaxed. He knew just how to shut up.

"So the sweaty thing is doin' it for ya, huh?" Dallas nudged her towards the bed, running his hands down her back and doing his utmost to force his scent on her, bringing her in close to his body.

Sylvia pulled a disdainful face as she backed away but she did start to giggle, a sure fire sign that she'd forgiven him. He dropped like a dead weight onto her, sending them both onto the bed but despite her laughter, she did wriggle out from underneath him.

"Seriously, Dal, that's disgusting," she said, hands on her hips as she stood over him. "Get offa the bed in those clothes, I just changed the sheets."

He smiled to himself. If people could hear her now. Nobody in their right mind would have believed that Sylvia Green was the domestic type. He wouldn't have believed it himself if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. That just made her more appealing to him though. She was the kind of girl that could take care of you, but she was also the kind of girl that could take care of herself.

"So, the clothes? Please?"

He couldn't believe he was using the word please. What was it about a hot woman that let her walk all fucking over you? Soda would practically pawn his own balls to take Sandy out for the night and even Steve did sappy things for his girl like buying her flowers and surprising her.

The only time Dallas surprised Sylvia was when he stayed out of jail for more than a month.

Still, he was softer with her than he was with most people.

She sighed. The word 'please' must have done the trick. She knew he didn't use it lightly.

"Alright, but get in the shower. I'll get you something of Carl's to wear 'til your clothes are done."

Dallas didn't like the idea and he told her so in no uncertain terms.

"You're not coming near me until you smell better," she threatened. "Just get in the goddamn shower!"

Why did women always use sex as a weapon?

Grumbling, Dallas snuck off to the shower, leaving Sylvia to take his clothes downstairs to the washer.

The hot water felt good. The shower at Bucks always alternated between hot and cold, sometimes scolding you and sometimes making you yell out because of the sheer iciness of it. The towels there were never particularly clean either. You often felt grubbier once you'd used them than before you'd washed. Sylvia's place was great though, gleaming and clean smelling. The towels were soft and smelt like fabric softener, something that only a kid who had been brought up without a mother, could really appreciate. He doubted his mother even knew how to work a washing machine.

Despite how good the heat felt on his ribs, Dallas didn't linger for too long under the water. There was always the chance that Mrs Green would come in to use the bathroom and catch him there. Though the look on her face would probably be worth the aggravation, he decided with a wry grin.

His clothes were gone from the bathroom floor when he was done so he figured Sylvia had grabbed them to wash them too. He wrapped a towel round his waist once he was dry and padded back down the hall to her room. He half wished that Carl would come up the stairs and see him now. That would be fucking classic.

"Clothes are there," Sylvia pointed to the bed where she had laid out a pair of Carl's jeans and a shirt.

She was sitting at her dresser, removing the last of her makeup and he stood watching her as she did so. He couldn't stand watching her put the stuff on. It took forever and she kept asking him about shades and co ordination, like he actually gave a fuck.

But watching her take it off, watching her remove it, it was like watching her take off a layer of toughness. She was younger looking without her makeup, fresher and in all honestly much prettier, but what he liked best about seeing her that way was he was the only one that got the privilege. She used to get up before him every morning and reapply her make up before he saw her. She'd actually sleep with it on so he'd never see her any different, but one morning she'd overslept and most of it had come away, smudged in black lines all over her milky skin. He'd made a wisecrack as expected and she'd leapt up, mortified and rushed to her dresser, hurriedly removing yesterdays make up and already lining up an array of cosmetics to redo herself.

Dallas had gotten up just before she'd started to reapply and picked her up from behind, carrying her back to the bed and pulling the duvet over them both. It was then that he'd really noticed the difference, that he saw for the first time what she looked like underneath the ton of foundation and eyeliner.

She'd been embarrassed, he knew she had, but he wasn't letting her up and she was too proud to tell him what was bothering her even though it was patently obvious. That was one of the best lays he'd ever had in his life. Since then, she wasn't bothered about him seeing her natural.

He got it though. He knew that makeup to her was like his fists were to him; a barrier between her and the world.

"Come here," Dallas pulled her roughly off of the stool she was seated on and into a standing position before he pressed his mouth against hers. She always tasted so fucking good and he hadn't been laid since before he got sent to the cooler. Not that he'd been waiting around for Sylvia to show up, any hot broad would have been fine, it was just that he hadn't had the opportunity. What with fighting Shepard, the cops, Darry and his old man, there just hadn't been time. He marvelled again over how much had gone on in three short days.

"Dal, the clothes," Sylvia murmured as he threw Carl's shirt onto the floor and pushed her down onto the bed.

"Fuck the clothes," he muttered, tugging at the button of her jeans.

Sex with Sylvia was always good, but after he'd been to jail, (which inevitably resulted in an argument, usually over some other guy), it was fucking unreal. She was a wildcat in the sack mostly, tiring out even him, but he had to admit that he kind of liked it when she was softer too. When she lay back with open arms and a gentle mouth, and when she clung to him like she was afraid to let go. Making Sylvia Green go weak at the knees was one hell of a power trip. And as much as he hated to admit it, he needed it after she'd been caught with someone else. He had to remind himself that he had the power to drive her crazy. He was second to nobody.

"Jesus Christ." He flopped back onto her pillows in just his boxer shorts with her pack of cigarettes in his hands.

Sylvia giggled and turned to face him.

"You miss me?"

"Like a fucking hole in the head," he smirked, lighting up.

She gave him the finger and got out of bed, collecting up her clothes from the floor and slipping them back on one by one. When she was dressed, she flopped back down beside him and reached for his cigarette.

"So, Syl..." Dallas used his most casual voice, but they both knew what was coming. "Who was he this time?"

"He?" Sylvia started blowing perfect smoke rings into the air, suddenly fascinated by the lines in the ceiling.

"Yeah." His voice automatically grew harder and he felt irritated with her all over again. "The guy whose lap you were in at Charlie's."

She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. He knew she hated giving up who she'd been with, but that was the deal. When they got back together, he'd punch out the guy just for taking liberties. Everybody knew Sylvia was his girl. Most of the time he knew who it was without having to ask her, but sometimes, like this time, he wasn't sure.

"Dal, do we have to-" She stopped short at the sound of a car pulling up outside. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah, it's a fucking car, America's full of 'em, now gimme a name."

"No!"

She sat up huffily and tried to climb out of bed, but he grabbed her arm, refusing to let her leave.

"Why you always gotta make things worse?" He exploded. "You wanna protect whatever chump it was? Is that it?"

They were so caught up in their argument that they didn't hear the door slam shut downstairs. It was only when whoever it was started up the stairs that they both leapt out of bed.

"Quick, get out of here!" Sylvia whispered, panicked. Dallas looked down at his boxer shorts. No way was he going out of the window like this. He and Carl would just have to have it out. Wouldn't be the first time.

"Dallas!" Sylvia pleaded, grabbing Carl's clothes from the floor and pushing them into his hands. He was about to start pulling them on when she propelled him towards her closet and pulled open the door.

"No fucking way," he refused, but before he could get into it with her she was shoving him inside and slamming the door. He stood in the darkness with Carl's stolen clothes in his hands, fuming and repeating to himself over and over, _'Never hit a woman, never hit a woman'._

Christ , she was a pain in his ass, good lay or not.

He heard her bedroom door open then followed by Carl's voice.

"Still up, Syl? Jimmy's downstairs, I said he can crash on the couch. Get him some blankets and shit, will ya?"

Dallas rolled his eyes. Jimmy Carol was Carl's sidekick and the most depressing guy you could ever come across. He was always so down in the dumps that Dallas wanted to give him something to really feel sorry about.

"Why? Where are you going? I'm tired, I'm going to bed."

At least Sylvia wasn't going to entertain Jimmy's bullshit.

"I gotta get over to Teresa's, she's blowing a gasket at me because of talking to some chick I dated a million years ago," Carl sounded impatient. "I do enough shit for you. Can you just-"

Carl trailed off and the room fell quiet.

"Are they Winston's fucking shoes?"

His boots. Shit.

"Yeah, so what? They been sitting there for a million years, Carl, shows how much fucking attention you pay."

Sylvia did a hell of a job at keeping her voice even. It actually bothered him that she could lie so well. Shit, she almost had him fooled.

"I'll take Jimmy down a blanket, okay?"

She was surrendering her protest in the hope that he'd let the subject drop and like the half wit idiot Carl was, he didnt notice.

"Alright, thanks Syl. I'll be back soon."

She said goodbye to him and Dallas waited impatiently for him to get the hell out.

Sylvia yanked open the closet door just before he got the chance, remorse written all over her face. He glared at her.

"Sorry, Dal, but you better go. Jimmy's downstairs and-"

"Seriously? The closet?" He demanded furiously.

Before she could reply, footsteps on the stairs started up again. She started to close the closet door on him again but he put his arm out wedging it open.

"Not on your fucking life," he growled.

"Whoever it is, I'll get rid of them, I swear, just one more minute," she said, desperately prying his fingers away from the door. Just as her bedroom door opened, she swung the closet door shut in his face.

He didn't know why he put up with this shit. She was good in bed but she wasn't THAT good. Of all the degrading places he'd been this week; the jail cell, the floor of the Curtis hallway, this was by far the most humiliating. She had exactly one minute before he lost his rag altogether.

"Jimmy, get out of here!"

Sylvia's voice was filled with unpleasantness and he smiled to himself. In the right mood, Sylvia was enough to reduce a person to tears. With a few choice words, she'd probably have Jimmy hanging from the rafters.

"Sylvia, I been calling you all week!" Carol's whining voice made Dallas' ears prick up, and he edged closer to the door.

"Just go downstairs and I'll bring you a blanket," Sylvia sounded edgy for some reason and Dallas didn't like it one bit. Did Carol have a fucking thing for her or something?

"I just don't get you, Sylvia, one minute you're all fucking over than me then Winston gets out and you just disappear?"

Dallas could hardly believe his ears. Jimmy Carol. Jimmy fucking Carol.

"Jimmy fucking Carol?" He bellowed at Sylvia, bursting out of the closet.

He thought Jimmy was gonna piss his pants he looked so terrified, but then he guessed the last thing he'd expected to see was Dallas Winston leaping out in his underwear.

"Winston-" Jimmy was as pale as a ghost and Dallas thought he had good reason to be. Jimmy was a year older than him, and a fair bit heavier too, but he wasn't a tough guy. Which was why he hid behind Carl. Too bad Carl wasn't here to save him.

Dallas swung a vicious punch at Jimmy's face. He went careering into Sylvia's dresser, sending her careful rows of nail polish and perfume crashing to the floor.

"Dallas!" Sylvia screamed.

Dallas wasn't done yet. He dragged a bloody Jimmy over to the window and tried his best to shove him outside. Jimmy was hanging on for his life but it didn't take Dallas long to have him hanging by one arm and one leg, the rest of him dangling over the side access path.

"Dallas, stop it!" Sylvia sounded angry enough to take a swing at him but frankly, he didn't give a shit.

"Want a hand downstairs, Carol?" He jeered, shaking Jimmy over the path threateningly. "I think it's about time you left anyhow,"

Carol started to beg then, pleading to be brought back inside but this just made Dallas angrier. This little weed had the gall to hit on Sylvia? And what the hell had she seen in him? _She_ was tougher than he was.

It was then that the bedroom door swung open, hitting the wall so hard that the house seemed to shake. Dallas glanced up, for all the world expecting Carl to be standing there. It wasn't Carl though. It was Mrs Green.

"Dallas Winston, put that boy down, right now!"

Shirley Green, still half drunk , stood swaying slightly in the doorway. She wore a thin cream dressing gown and her body wasn't half bad for her age, Dallas realised.

"I'm sorry, did we wake you?" He asked her sarcastically.

"Let me up, Winston, please!" Jimmy looked just about ready to puke but Dallas was enjoying every second. He was facing the consequences of trying to take what belonged to him, a mistake he wouldn't make again in a hurry.

"Dallas, let GO! I mean it!" Mrs Green bellowed, making him jump slightly. So that was where Sylvia got her mouth from. He made a mental note to key her car for imparting that particular gift.

"Let go?" He said innocently, widening his ice blue eyes. "What, like this?"

He loosened his grip, causing Jimmy to cry out in terror.

"Nooo!" Mother and daughter shrieked in unison, both rushing forward to stop him.

It was too late.

Dallas released his grip on both Jimmy's arm and leg and down he went onto the path below. There was a sickening thud as bone met concrete and Jimmy began to howl.

Dallas poked his head out of the window to relish the sight of a crumpled Jimmy, practically sobbing outside, before he turned and faced the two women.

"You," he jabbed a finger in Sylvia's face, "are a fucking tramp."

"It was one fucking kiss, Dal, one fucking kiss because YOU had disappeared again! It's hardly crime of the century!"

He pulled on Carl's clothes angrily followed by his boots as Sylvia went off on a tangent, screaming obscenities. Her mother looked like she was in some state of shock. She kept running her hands through her honey blonde hair like she couldn't quite believe what was happening. Finally, she managed to get a sentence out.

"Sylvia, call the police!"

"Mom!" Sylvia cried in disgust.

Dallas smirked. That was the great thing about Sylvia Green; she was greaser through and through just like him. She wouldn't call the cops for anything.

Now fully dressed, he grabbed her cigarettes and took off for the stairs. He figured that was the least she owed him.

Sylvia was hot on his heels, clattering down the stairs behind him, trying to grab him and stop him from leaving, insisting that the kiss with Carol had meant nothing.

The front door swung open so suddenly it almost hit them both, and lo and behold, there was big brother Carl Green, filling the frame like a vengeful villain.

Totally past negotiating by now, Dallas leant back and pounded Carl harder than he'd hit anybody in a long time. Carl hit the deck just after his cheekbone crunched under Dallas' fist.

Sylvia screamed like a fucking banshee then, trying to attack him as he leapt over Carl and strolled across the moonlit lawn, lighting up a cigarette from her very own box.

Dallas exhaled heavily. Sylvia Green was fucking hard work two days out of three. He guessed that was what kept pulling them back together because she told him he was hard work _three_ days out of three.

He threw a last look back at her, cradling her brother's head in her lap, kneeling in the doorway of the house. Her hair was untidy from the act of sex and her face was angry enough to scare small children but even so, she was the hottest broad on the north side of town.

Carl was struggling to sit up now and in an act of vanity, Dallas paused on the sidewalk just long enough to see if he could see what kind of damage he'd inflicted.

Carl groaned, putting a hand to the shattered bone in his face, before demanding of Sylvia;

"Was he wearing my fucking shirt?"

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	6. Sleepless In Tulsa

**A.N: Thanks to all of those who have reviewed regularly including some blue december, whatcoloristhesky, pretentious kneecap and madcatta. **

Dallas had to walk back to Buck's, minus his rucksack, wearing Carl Green's clothes. He wasn't even slightly amused at the situation.

Damn Sylvia and her constant need for fucking attention. He knew that's what the other guys were, someone to pay her attention and kiss her ass which he wasn't willing to do.

But Jimmy Carol? That was like a double fucking insult to him. There he was locked in a jail cell while she was in the lap of the biggest pussy in Tulsa. Thankfully that filthy display had been inside an almost empty bar save for the little brother of a Shepard gang member who hadn't recognised Jimmy but had recognised Sylvia alright. The tramp.

Dallas was freezing. The night air was crisp and the accompanying wind was relentless. He still had no jacket and on top of that he had no clothes either. Just fucking great.

He often made the walk from his old man's place to the Curtis' at this hour, but Bucks was way across town. He didn't fancy another fight with Darry or the Spanish inquisition from Soda so he was gonna have to brave the cold and the long journey. Squaring his shoulders and lifting his head, Dallas thrust his face challengingly into the wind and picked up his pace.

It was gone one am and the streets were dead, the way they usually were at this time. His footsteps were echoing down the silent sidewalk, the streetlights reflecting off the glistening cars. He was out on his arse too fucking often at this hour. It was always a matter of bouncing from place to place, people to people, situation to situation. No two days were ever the same and this had always been a thrill to him. Sometimes though, in the darker moments, he wondered what stability would feel like.

Before he'd come to his senses and curse at himself. Fuck stability- stability was for pussies.

He was exhausted by the time he reached Buck's. There was another party swinging in the bar and he could hear it from the other end of the block. Fuck, he could murder a beer.

He was trudging across the dusty parking lot when he was surprised by a female voice calling his name.

"Dallas! Over here!"

For a brief moment he thought it was Sylvia arriving to wreak revenge, but when he turned to look, it was Kathy, Two-Bit's chick.

Dallas didn't know Kathy too well. He thought she was an okay looking broad with a hot ass but they hadn't really said more than a hello in passing.

He raised his head enquiringly at her. He was tired and only entertaining her for Two-Bit's sake in case she was in some kind of trouble. Her hair was a little messy and she looked a little pissed but he hoped all she wanted was a cigarette. He was in no mood to play hero.

"Dallas, can you tell Two-Bit to get out of his car? He's drunk out of his mind and he wants to drive," Kathy was wringing her hands nervously and casting worried looks back at Two-Bit's car.

Dallas rolled his eyes. Was this chick for real? Did she think he was Mathew's fucking mother?

"He always drives drunk, big fucking deal."

"Not this drunk. Come and look." She reached for his elbow and succeeded in pulling him a couple of feet before he wrenched his arm free and scowled at her. She seemed to shrink before his eyes and satisfied that she realised he wasn't going to be dragged anywhere, he strode over to Two-Bit's car.

"Hey, Two, what's your broad babbling about?"

He stuck his head in the passenger window but there was no sign of Two Bit in the front of the car. Where the fuck was he? He frowned before he heard a groan from the backseat.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Dallas stared as a semi conscious Two-Bit lifted his head dizzily from the floor of the car.

"Just restin' my eyes, buddy."

Dallas straightened up and fixed Kathy with an icy stare. She was wearing just a thin dress and no coat, her arms wrapped tightly about herself to fight off the cold.

"He's nowhere near the fucking steering wheel, what's your fucking problem?"

She looked close to tears now but if she thought that the watery stare she used on her boyfriend was working on him then she was out of her mind.

"That's because he mistook the rear door for the drivers and fell onto the back seat. He ended up on the floor when he was trying to crawl into the front."

Dallas shook his head and started to walk off.

"You're just gonna leave him there?" Kathy called after him in disbelief.

"Drive him home," Dallas called over his shoulder. "I've seen him puke more times than anyone should have to. I ain't holding out for another performance."

"But he won't give me the keys-" she started to protest.

He opened the door to the heat and din of Buck's bar and let himself be drawn inside. Kathy's words were lost somewhere out in the parking lot.

Dallas swept past a couple who were making out in the lobby and stood in the doorway to the bar, letting the atmosphere wash over him. The place was crowded, Elvis was on the juke box and he could taste the beer already.

"Where the hell have you been?" From behind him, Buck put a hand on his shoulder and on instinct Dallas caught it and twisted his arm roughly.

"Holy shit, Buck, don't fucking creep up on me!" Dallas released his grip and gave Buck a small shove. Buck must have been plenty drunk because he took the push hard and staggered to keep his balance.

"Where have you been, Dal?" He asked again, this time in a calmer voice.

Dallas looked at him and snorted rudely.

"What, now you're my fucking keeper?"

"No it ain't that, it's just mighty busy tonight and I wanted to know if I could rent out your room. If you ain't coming back, I'd like to fucking know."

"Well, I _am_ back so there ain't nothing to know, is there?" Dallas stepped round Buck and headed for the bar.

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It was a quarter to four when he decided he was ready to sleep. Anger always gave him insomnia but the great thing about Bucks was there was always something happening to keep him occupied.

"I'm done for the night."

Dallas yawned and threw his hand of cards on the table. He liked a hand of poker now and then. Sometimes he was pretty good at it and made drinking money for a fortnight, but other times, like tonight, he couldn't keep his mind on the game. Gambling when you were angry was never a good idea.

He'd got his starting money from Buck after much persuasion and then he'd been up by twenty bucks. Two hands later and he'd lost it and Buck's stake. You win some, you lose some, he guessed.

Buck was standing in the corner, his face like thunder. Dallas had lost the stake just as he'd known he would and he was still expected to give him free room and board too.

"Night, Buck," Dallas slapped him heartily on the shoulder as he passed, his wink more than audacious as Buck scowled back.

Fuck him, Dallas thought to himself. Fuck everybody in this goddamn place. And fuck Sylvia too, the whore. He hoped she and Jimmy Carol were very fucking happy together. No fuck that, he hoped they were both miserable for all fucking eternity. And it wasn't jealousy, fuck was it not jealousy, it was just a matter of pride. Jimmy fucking Carol.

He was surprised to find the bar was almost empty when he came out of the back room. Most people had gone home or gone upstairs. There were a couple of boys from Brumly in one corner and two giggly girls at the bar. He gave them the once over. One was overweight and the other had a nose big enough to direct traffic. Shit. He was going to bed alone but that was his own fault. You snooze, you lose, he shoulda got his ass out here quicker.

On the stairs he could hear the moans and groans of a typical night at Bucks. An image of Sylvia writhing under Carol flashed through his mind and he pushed it away aggressively. She didn't fuck Carol; she'd said so, hadn't she? She always insisted that he was the only person she'd slept with but he could never be sure. There had been no evidence to suggest she was lying, but that still didn't mean he believed her.

Dallas kicked open the room to his door. He hadn't bothered to lock it or return the key to Buck but what the fuck did he have to steal anyway?

He started to rip off Carl's shirt and throw it in the trash before he remembered it was the only shirt he had now; the rest of his clothes were at Sylvia's and his Dad's place. He wasn't sure at which address he was least welcome.

Tossing the shirt on top of his bureau and pulling off his boots, he sunk heavily back onto his mattress and closed his eyes. He wondered how Johnny was getting along, whether the kid was holding it together and if Darry and Soda were still flipping out over the whole thing. It felt like a million years ago that Johnny and Pony had been here in this room. Could it really only have been three days?

The sharp rap on the door before it swung open caused him to open his eyes again.

Buck stood in the doorway, glassy eyed and kinda annoyed looking. Shit, the stake was only five dollars. That was nothing to a guy like Buck.

"What the fuck do you want?"

He was annoyed at being disturbed. Buck had had the last three hours to start up a conversation. Right now, he was done talking.

"Winston, you are walking a fine line and if you don't get your idiot buddy outta my parking lot you can find somewhere else to sleep!" Buck's voice was low and firmer than it usually was, a clear sign that Dallas had pushed his luck that evening.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up.

"Matthews. He's out cold in the parking lot and the cops catching any more drunk drivers coming from here is the last thing I need."

"Not my fucking problem." Dallas lit up a smoke and looked up at Buck with a mean scowl. He knew how to make the fucker nervous. He had a way of looking at people that even unnerved the cops.

Buck did lose his nerve slightly, avoiding Dallas' eyes for a moment but he pulled it together again instead of giving up.

"It IS your problem! You get him away from the car or you're out, Winston. I mean it. "

Dallas sized the older man up. Buck had no way of physically removing him from the premises but he could change the locks tomorrow if he really wanted to. Dallas knew that Buck needed him for rodeos but he too was on to a good thing here and letting Two Bit screw it all up because he couldn't hold his liquor seemed fucking pointless.

"Alright, I'll take care of it. Jesus," Dallas went over to the window and pushed it open. It creaked painfully but allowed him to swing it open fully. "Two-Bit! Hey, Two Bit! Get your ass outta there!"

The single bulb from his room threw enough light into the parking lot so that he could see Two Bit's car. The back door was open and all that could be seen was a pair of battered sneakers hanging out over the seats. Where the fuck was Kathy? She'd obviously had enough and left him there.

"I tried to wake him," Buck said, going to the bedroom door and pulling it open. "He's dead to the world in there. You got no chance of him hearing you."

Yeah, real fucking helpful, Dallas thought in annoyance as Buck left the room.

He looked around for inspiration and spotted an ashtray on the floor. That would do.

Leaning out of the window, he took aim and hurled the glass ashtray towards Two Bit's feet. It hit the trunk of the car instead, smashing into a thousand pieces and making an explosive crashing noise as it did so.

"Mathews, if I have to come down there, you better be dead or something!"

There was no response from the unconscious Two-Bit. Christ, if the sound of the ashtray hadn't woke him then nothing would.

Groaning, Dallas clamped his cigarette between his teeth, sat down on the bed and started to pull his boots back on.

Why was it that Two-Bit never knew when to quit? He'd carry right on drinking way past the point of no return, way past that moment where you know you have to get home or you never will. Dallas had crossed town to reach his bed only to find Two-Bit camped out in the parking lot when his room was a hell of a lot nicer than the one Dallas occupied.

Grabbing Carl's shirt, he struggled into it as he clattered noisily down the stairs, ripped open the screen door and headed purposefully towards Two-Bit's car.

"Will you get the fuck out of there?" He snapped as he yanked open the rear door.

Two-Bit was lying with his mouth wide open, drooling all over the back seat like a fucking Labrador. No wonder Kathy had left.

"Hey, Mathews!" Dallas put a hand on either side of the door opening and gave Two-Bit a nudge with his foot.

Still, it was like Dallas wasn't even there. The drunk just kept on snoring.

He was beyond impatient now. It was freezing, he was tired and all he wanted to do was go to sleep. Dallas leant inside and put his mouth close to Two-Bit's ear before shouting as loud as he could.

"WAKEY, WAKEY, MATHEWS!"

Two Bit's head jolted up so quickly that Dallas only just got out of the way in time.

"Huh? What? Who?"

Two-Bit looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his face was pale and drawn, and his usually tidy hair was sticking up in all directions. Christ, was he even greasing it these days? He looked like fucking road kill.

"Get outta the car, man. Buck's pissed, he wants you outta here."

Two-Bit still looked confused. He darted a look around and then looked back at Dallas with a bewildered expression.

"What happened to Kathy?"

"Beats me. Will you get up?"

Two-Bit scratched his head thoughtfully but he still looked pretty out of it. Dallas wondered if he even remembered how he got in the car.

"Hey, be a pal and drive me home, Dal." Two-Bit settled back as though he honestly believed Dallas was gonna chauffeur him home at four in the morning and deliver him to his Mom in this fucking state. He had to be out of his mind.

Dallas had to remind himself that they were buddies and kicking the shit out of someone who was this drunk just wasn't fair play.

"I ain't driving you nowhere. Get your ass up and I'll get you a room from Buck."

Two –Bit didn't really react. Instead he closed his eyes.

"Hey, I'm not kidding around here. GET-UP!"

"You know, I'm not really sure that I can,-" Two-Bit didn't get to finish his sentence because Dallas lost his rag, reached in and grabbed him from under his arms. He then hauled him out in one swift movement and dragged him to his feet, slamming him bodily against the car.

"Now, listen to me, you fucking clown-" Dallas was just starting to lay down the law when Two-Bit slid down the car panel and hit the ground.

Dallas looked down at the crumpled heap of limbs at his feet before he let out a heavy sigh. Two-Bit wasn't kidding around. He really couldn't walk.

He leant down wordlessly, pulled him back into a standing position and started to frogmarch him towards Bucks, using the shoulders of his shirt to haul him upright when he slipped on the uneven ground. Two-Bit was no scrawny kid and Dallas was exhausted by the time he finally dragged him up the porch steps.

Buck appeared like a fucking apparition, the way he always seemed to when Dallas' mood darkened.

"Keys. Now." Dallas ordered, holding out his hand.

"Keys for what?" Buck was looking worriedly at Two Bit as though he might puke on the floor, but then again, with Mathews, it was a distinct possibility.

"For a room, you jack ass. He needs to sleep it off."

Buck just looked at him, one eyebrow arched, his mouth twitching.

"So the keys? Come on already!"

"All the rooms are out," Buck shrugged. "That's why I was asking about yours."

"They're what?"

Dallas was so enraged that he clean forgot about holding Two-Bit up and he near enough landed on Buck. If not for some pretty quick backtracking on Buck's part, he most certainly would have. Instead, he hit the stripped floorboards with a painful groan.

"Just drive him home, Dal. His car's outside." Buck didn't seem at all concerned with Dallas' anger and that only served to make him madder.

"That was it!" Two Bit piped up from the floor in remembrance. "I couldn't find my keys, that's why I couldn't start the car!"

Dallas tightened his jaw and gritted his teeth. Was someone gonna jump out with a fucking camera and shout 'Gotcha!' at any given moment? Was it possible that he was THIS unlucky?

"The T-bird..." he said in a slow deep growl, trying as hard as he could not to punch Buck so hard it would knock out any teeth he had left.

"In the shop, kid, sorry."

If Dallas didn't know better, he'd swear that Buck was actually enjoying this, that he was actually getting some kind of kick out of Dallas' predicament.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He finally lost it and leant over to grab Buck by the shirt.

He was shaking Buck hard who looked terrified. Dallas enjoyed the expression, shaking him some more. Buck had been getting too fucking fresh lately; he had to be reminded who was in fucking charge here.

"You think you're funny, huh Buck? You know what it's like rooming with him when he's like this?"

"Hey, I resent that comment," Two-Bit said weakly from the floor.

"And you!" Dallas let go of Buck and kicked Two-Bit hard. "It's funny that the only part of you still working is that Goddamn mouth!"

"Glory, Dally, there's no need for that,"

Two Bit rubbed his back, looking offended, while Buck scuttled back into the bar like a freshly discovered beetle. Yeah, that's it, go crawl back under your fucking rock, Dallas thought.

Muttering obscenities under his breath, he pulled Two Bit to his feet and started to drag him up the stairs, roughly enough for him to struggle and complain.

Once inside the room, he threw Two Bit to the floor and tossed him a pillow.

"I don't wanna see you. I don't wanna hear you. If you breathe too fucking heavy, I will break your fucking legs. You got all that?"

"Sure, Dal. You sure are pissed today, even for you. Is this about Sylvia? Because-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Dallas bellowed, kicking off his boots and hitting the light. Two-Bit fell silent but it was five whole minutes of staring angrily at the ceiling his breathing was even again.

Fucking Sylvia. If she wasn't such a whore he'd be nestled between her nice clean sheets, not holed up in here with a slaughtered Two-Bit.

His mind started to fog over as it found sleep so he pulled the covers tighter around his shoulders and wondered how Johnny would deal in jail. Jail wasn't a nice place, especially for kids like Johnny.

"Hey, Dal, you ever been to Texas?"

Dallas closed his eyes. If it was a choice between jail and this room at this moment, it wasn't even a fucking choice.

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	7. She's Got Game

**Hey all, ****I know it's been a while, but I have finally posted another chapter. Yay!**

**Don't own Hinton's characters. Wish I did.**

Dallas woke up to Two Bit snoring like an army tank. The windows were practically vibrating with the noise.

"Hey, shut up," he moaned exhaustedly.

When Two Bit didn't stir, he threw his pillow, hitting him squarely over the head.

"Aw, Ma, it ain't time yet," Two Bit groaned drowsily.

"I ain't your Ma, you idiot. If I was, I woulda drowned you at birth."

Two Bit yawned sleepily.

"Oh, hey, Dal,"

"Don't 'hey Dal' me, you punk. You kept me up half the night with your bullshit."

"Aww, you're no fun at sleepovers," Two Bit grinned.

It was right about then that the bedroom door swung open and Sylvia came flying in, almost tripping over Two Bit.

"Ah-ha!" She exclaimed furiously. She looked in confusion at Dallas lying in bed and then down at Two Bit near her feet.

"Oh," her face suddenly lost it's certainty.

"Morning, doll," Two Bit smiled. "I'll leave you's two to it, shall I?"

Dallas sat up in bed, picked up his cigarettes and struck a match as Two Bit got to his feet and left.

"What the fuck do you want?" He snapped at her.

"I heard voices and I thought..." she trailed off unhappily.

"You thought that I was in here banging some broad so we'd be quits? Well I ain't and we ain't quits. Get outta here."

His head was hurting again and he was sure it was Sylvia that was making him feel that way. Jimmy fucking Carol, it still didn't seem real. She was practically contaminated now.

"Dal, it was one stupid kiss 'cause you were in jail. Again. Gimme a break, would ya? Carl's cheek bone's shattered and my Mom is about ready to give me away."

"They'd only bring you straight back," Dallas responded cruelly. "What you got there?"

She was holding his rucksack as if by way of apology and he felt himself soften involuntarily.

"I thought you'd need your clothes," she said with a shrug. "They're all clean."

"You think this makes everything alright?" He glared at her, but she only put her hands on her hips.

"Don't start the self righteous crap with me, Dallas Winston. I'm well aware that you're bedding girls left and right whenever it suits you."

"Yeah, after I get sent to the cooler and you move onto the next guy!" He yelled. "Just get outta here, Sylvia. I'd sooner room with Two Bit than fucking have you here. Go on, get out!"

He threw the box of matches idly in her direction then watched her face heat up with anger. Jesus, it didn't take much to send her into a tantrum. He swore her fuse got shorter every day.

She started to look around for something to retaliate with and her eyes came to rest on an old broken lamp on his bureau. He opened his mouth to warn her not to touch it but before he could, the lamp was coming his way.

"Jesus Christ!" He leapt off the bed just in time as the lamp smashed on the headboard and the shattered ceramic showered his mattress. "Are you outta your mind, you crazy bitch?"

He came across the room, towering over her furiously and wanting to wrap his hands around her neck.

"Yes I'm outta my mind! And you've driven me to it, you fucking bum! Have you forgotten what you did to my brother last night? 'Cause I sure as hell haven't!"

"Your brother's a fucking pussy, he had it coming. And if you weren't a broad you'd be getting the same treatment."

She pushed him then, squarely in the chest, hard enough to knock him back a step. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, wanting to sock her one back, but somehow resisting.

"Don't fucking push me, Sylvia." He pushed his face close to hers but she tilted her face up towards him just as defiantly.

"Or what?" She growled.

He wasn't sure if she kissed him first or he kissed her but before he knew it they were lip to lip, their tongues pushed inside each other's mouths, his hands all over her tight body.

He was suddenly desperate to have her, aching to be inside her, but as he spun her towards the bed he remembered the broken lamp pieces and instead pushed her over to his bureau. He lifted her on top of it, his hands sliding up her skirt as she breathed heavily into his mouth.

He heard her cry of protest as he tore her panties off but he knew she was just pissed he'd ruined her underwear. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her, that much was clear when she reached inside his boxers and pulled him closer.

He thrust into her with a groan, feeling her cling tightly to him, loving the way her long nails scoured his back. Jesus, she was hot. A pain in the ass, but never the less, hot.

When it was over and they were both spent, he leant over her, panting furiously, his heart thudding in his chest. Sylvia kissed him long and hard on the mouth before sliding out from under him and picking up her clothes.

He sat on the edge of the bed, lighting up a cigarette for both of them and handing her one when she came back to lean on the bureau.

"So I take it we're okay now?" She gave him a tiny irresistible grin that made him want to do it all over again. He didn't give her the satisfaction though.

"It's a start, I guess," he grumbled. "But I swear, Sylvia, no more fooling around. Next time you can just keep on walking."

She leant down and kissed him again, whispering in his ear that he was all she ever wanted. He let her talk for a while before he finally pushed her away.

"Alright, beat it, kid, I gotta take a shower before I go out,"

He could tell she didn't like his response, but she tried hard not to show it. That was Sylvia alright. Always a show girl.

"Sure thing, I got stuff to do anyway. See ya tonight, maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe," he nodded. "And remember, you still owe me."

Sylvia sashayed to the door, knowing exactly how good her ass looked in that pencil skirt. Fucking tease. She turned in the doorway, throwing a flirtatious smile over her shoulder.

"Don't you worry, I'll pay you back," she said, before leaving.

Dallas smirked once she was gone. Sylvia Green, what a fucking trip.

He got up and shook out his bed sheets watching the ceramic pieces fall to the floor and shaking his head. She'd thrown a fucking lamp at him. He should have knocked her teeth down her throat but damn, she was hot when she was angry.

He needed to get over to the Curtis place and check on Darry and Soda. He hadn't seen or heard from either of them since his last visit and he figured he'd better show his face before they started getting on his ass about Pony again.

At least he had some clean clothes now.

He reached for the back pack that Sylvia had left behind and unzipped it before pulling out a few t-shirts. She really had washed his clothes, they smelt like fabric softener. He put his face into a shirt and inhaled deeply, relieved to finally have something clean to wear. Then he pulled out first one pair of jeans, then a second, then a third.

He scowled as he threw pair after pair onto the dusty floor. There were five in total.

Sylvia had game, he had to give her that.

She'd cut the crotch out of every pair of jeans he'd given her.

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	8. A Friend In Need

**Don't own Outsiders, and I suck at updating quickly these days. Apologies.**

_**A Friend In Need**_

Darry was sitting on the porch steps when Dallas arrived, looking as though he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Dallas braced himself for another interrogation as he drew closer but Darry didn't even seem to notice him.

"Hey, Curtis, you in there?" Dal waved a hand in front of his friend's face and Darry looked up at him, startled.

"Oh hey, Dal." He sighed and scooted over so Dallas could sit down. "Soda and Steve have just gone to the store."

Dallas digested this slowly as he sat, reaching into his pocket for a Kool.

He lit up, expecting Darry to scold him or move away for blowing his smoke so close to him, but Darry didn't move a muscle.

"You reckon they'll get the chair, Dally? When they catch them, I mean."

Dallas almost choked on his cigarette, both at the question and the desperate tone in Darry's voice. This was not how Darry reacted to trouble. He was as good as he was at keeping a poker face.

"Aw, shit, Darry, they gotta catch 'em first."

"Well, what are they gonna do? Run forever? They're just a couple of kids, for Christ's sake. Did you know that Nicky Gavel's kid brother got jumped by three soc's yesterday?"

Dallas hadn't heard, and he was a little pissed to be truthful. Nicky Gavel lived on Tim Shepard's street and had run with the Shepard Gang for a while. His kid brother must have been all of thirteen. Him getting jumped was the kind of thing that he always heard through Tim. Why the hell hadn't he heard this already?

"Yeah, so?" Dallas stretched out and laid his head on the porch from his spot on the steps. Shepard hadn't been at Bucks last night, at least. In fact, Dallas hadn't seen him since their run in at the beginning of the week. All this running around after Sylvia fucking Green hadn't given him much time to do much else.

"Well, even if Pony and Johnny come home, what's it gonna be like for them here? Like it wasn't hard enough to begin with."

Dallas closed his eyes and inhaled on his cigarette, wishing that he'd never left the damn kids at the movies that night. He would have dealt with those pricks back there and they'd never have come looking for them later.

"You not working, Dar?"

Darry shook his head and then put his dark head in his hands.

"You can't do much sittin' round here. 'Cept drive yourself crazy, that is."

Darry looked at him sideways and then mumbled so incoherently that Dallas barely made it out.

"What else am I supposed to do?"

"Come for a walk," Dallas straightened up and got to his feet, cocking an eyebrow at Darry, who was sitting with slumped shoulders like some kind of a defeated God. He gave Dallas a doubtful look.

"Walk?"

"Sure. You remember how, right?" From Soda, it would have come across as cute or even encouraging, but from Dallas, it could only sound sardonic.

Darry gave him a half smile and slowly climbed up from the porch.

"Let's go," Dallas started out for the lot with Darry on his heels. Damn, he wished for his jacket back, or at least a replacement, but he swallowed the words before they surfaced, not needing Darry on his back again. Though if he was honest, he kind of preferred angry Darry to sad and lost Darry.

"So does this work then?" Darry looked over at him, apparently not even feeling the cold in a t shirt.

"Does what work?"

"Walking off steam,"

"Well, punching the hell out of someone works better but if it's a chick and you can't, sure; walking works fine." He'd walked off plenty of tempers on the way home from Sylvia's. Just thinking about all his jeans with their neat holes in the pelvis was getting him all pissed off again.

"Pony said track cleared his head."

'S_aid'_, Dallas noticed. He was already talking like the kid wasn't coming back, or worse even, was dead.

"Well, I don't know much about that. Running around in circles never made much sense to me."

Darry kind of grinned at him then and they both relaxed as they turned down a side alley and away from the lot. It was there that they heard the voices.

"I don't care how much you want it, Bubba, guys ain't really my thing,"

The voice was taunting, filled with comedy, and both boys recognised it instantly. Two-Bit.

"He was there the night at the movies. He was trying to pick up Marcia," an accusing male voice said. "Your fucking scumbag friends killed Bob."

"Seems to me they did society a favour," Two-Bit said nonchalantly.

Dallas snickered at the same time that Darry winced and put a finger to his lips.

Two-Bit's comment was followed by the angry war cry of one of the four soc's surrounding him and just as they pounced, Dallas and Darry sprung out of the shadows.

Darrell literally floored two of the smaller guys as he charged at them from behind, and Dallas had surprise on his side as the largest Soc turned to meet his fist. Two-Bit used the moment to sucker punch the guy he was scuffling with and in just about ten seconds, all four soc's were running in the opposite direction.

"Howdy, fellas. Impeccable timing." Two Bit picked up his coat and dusted it off.

Dallas and Darry were breathing heavily as they watched the soc's run and jump into a red corvette.

"Fucking cowards," Dallas hissed.

"You ok?" Darry asked Two-Bit. Two-Bit shrugged and started to head back towards the lot.

"I'll be better when we know Johnny and the kid are alright."

888

As the sun started to set that evening, Dallas sat on the porch with Darry and Two-Bit, watching Steve and Soda throw a football absently between them. Soda looked even sadder than when Dallas had seen him last. He'd missed the ball countless times in the last twenty minutes but instead of the usual abuse that Steve would toss at him for such misconduct Steve only looked concerned. Which was pretty strange in itself.

"What's with Soda?" Dallas turned to Two-Bit, who shrugged and turned his attention back to his beer.

"Apart from the obvious, you mean?" Darry sighed and kicked a bottle off of the porch. "Girl trouble."

Dallas gave Soda a disgusted look. Jesus, the day a broad made him look that down in the mouth he'd soon as well shoot himself.

"I got girl trouble every day of the fucking week. Big deal."

Darry gave him a hard look.

"Not this kind."

Soda missed the ball again and this time it rolled over to the side of the porch. Nobody made a move to retrieve it so Soda ambled over slowly, his face clearly showing that his mind was someplace else.

"Hey, Sodapop, what's with the face? I got plenty of females that would love to make your acquaintance."

Soda almost turned white and not with anger. The pain on his face was so real that Dallas was startled.

Soda picked up the ball and trudged back towards Steve.

"Hey, lay off, Dal," Darry hissed, when he was out of earshot.

Dallas was getting pretty pissed off with both Curtis' at this point. Surely a girl should be the least of their worries when Pony and Johnny were looking at the chair.

"What the fuck? Is the chick dead or something?" Dallas reached for Two-Bit's beer and took a big swig as Darry said;

"No, she's pregnant."

Dallas spat the beer all over Two-Bit, who to his credit (or drunkenness), didn't appear to even notice.

"Yeah, Dal, you heard right," Darry snapped. "And it ain't his. He offered to marry her anyway, but she took off to Florida. All his letters got sent back."

It sounded to Dallas like Soda had had a lucky break but he didn't say it out loud. What kind of chump wanted to raise someone else's kid? If Sylvia got pregnant with his OWN kid, he was pretty sure that he'd split, let alone someone else's.

"Pony would know what to say to him," Two-Bit said suddenly. Dallas hadn't even been sure he was conscious. "If Pony were here, Soda would be okay."

If Pony and Johnny were here, Dallas realised, he'd probably be okay too. As it was, he had a horrible gnawing in his stomach. He had to get his ass up to Jay Mountain as soon as he got the chance.

"Hey, who's this?" Darry got to his feet as a red stingray pulled up outside the house and Dallas swore out loud as a familiar redhead emerged from the driver door.

"Holy shit,"

"Who is it?" Darry looked back at Dallas as Cherry Valance made her way uncertainly towards them.

She looked great in her mackintosh and pencil skirt, even though she didn't wear her clothes nearly as tight as Sylvia did. Her face was grave and she jangled her car keys nervously as the wind whipped her red hair about her face.

Dallas couldn't help but smirk.

"You looking for me, beautiful?" He called provocatively, standing up and slouching down the stairs towards her.

"Winston," she acknowledged him coolly. "Hey, Two Bit."

Two Bit held up a hand and Steve and Soda abandoned their football to see who their visitor was.

"I'm Darrel Curtis. Can I help you?" Darrell looked at her inquisitively and she held out a shaky hand.

"I'm Cherry Valance. I know your brother, Ponyboy. I just wanted to come and tell you how sorry I am about what happened."

Darrel knew her name by now of course and he shook her hand uneasily as she shifted from foot to foot. It was her boyfriend that Johnny had killed.

"I'm sorry about-" he didn't know quite how to finish. "Everything."

Dallas was at that moment picturing Cherry in her mac and nothing else.

"Er-" Darry coughed then suddenly remembered his manners. "This is Sodapop, my other brother. And Steve.""

Soda smiled weakly and Steve nodded. Cherry smiled back self consciously and Darry gestured toward the house.

"Do you wanna come inside?"

"No, I can't stay." She shook her head. "I just wanted to say that if you need me to, I'll testify in Ponyboy's defence. And Johnny's. I know Bob was looking to pick a fight,"

She was struggling to fight back tears but her voice didn't waver and she held her chin high. She was a gutsy chick and Dallas liked gutsy chicks.

Darry and Soda looked relieved and Steve's serious face relaxed too.

"I knew I liked you," Two-Bit said from behind them. "You wanna beer, Cherry? There's plenty."

"No, thank you." She smiled and looked at Darry one last time. "Nice to meet you, Darrell. Sorry it had to be like this."

She turned to go but Dallas hopped down the stairs and started down after her.

"Hey, wait," he caught her arm and she jerked it away immediately.

"What do you want, Dallas?"

"I wanna know what's going on with those Soc's. I hear they're jumping little kids these days." He slouched down and hooked his thumbs in his back pockets, knowing it only made him look tougher.

Cherry looked instantly guilty and Dallas knew she'd heard about Gavel's kid brother.

"I can't do anything about that," she whispered hoarsely. "They've gone crazy over Bob."

Dallas felt something move inside of him. He wasn't quite sure he wanted to hug her but he certainly wanted to ram his tongue down her throat.

The guys were watching though. It was no time to work the charm.

"Sure there's something you can do. Give us a heads up on whatever they're planning."

She took a sharp intake of breath and he guessed that wasn't what she'd been expecting. He hadn't planned on saying it either, but it made sense. She could be their spy.

"I guess it's the least I could do," she shrugged. "I'll talk to Randy."

Dallas didn't know who this Randy kid was and frankly, he didn't care.

He smirked wider.

"How about we take a stand on all this feuding shit and grab us a coke at the Dingo? My shout."

Cherry stared at him incredulously, her eyes narrowing. She pulled herself up to her full height, which in all honesty, wasn't much.

"My boyfriend has just been killed," she hissed furiously.

"Looks like there's a vacancy then," he tried to slip an arm about her waist but she gave him a big shove away from her, her eyes blazing.

"Go to hell, Dallas Winston. Just go to hell!"

With that, she disappeared back into the sting ray and reversed sharply out of the Curtis driveway.

"Pony's got good taste in women," Steve approved. "She sure don't like you, Dal, does she?"

Dallas was smarting from the push she'd given him in full view of the guys. Maybe he'd overstepped the mark a little but Christ, she'd come over into HIS territory, batting her eyelashes like she wanted saving. Not that he was the heroic kind. She better get that straight in her pretty little head.

"She's playing fucking games, like all women do," Dallas shrugged, instantly regretting his words as Soda's face fell again.

Seeing this, Darry jumped in with;

"If she testifies, Pony and Johnny'll get off lightly. It was self defence and Cherry says she'll back that up."

This seemed to lift everyone's spirits slightly, including Dally, who at last would have some good news to take up to Jay mountain.

888

**Reviews are nice :)**


	9. Unpredictability

**Disclaimer: Don't own. Wish I did.**

**A.N: This is the penultimate chapter so review and I may actually get the final out by Christmas. Enjoy!**

Dally decided that he would leave in the early hours for Jay mountain. He didn't have much of an idea about what he would say to Johnny or the kid, but he'd feel a whole lot better if he just checked in on them anyhow. He was almost glad that he had Soda's letter to present to Pony. He hadn't read it but he figured Soda would say something more comforting than he could manage.

"Hey Buck! Another beer out here?"

He'd been hanging around in Bucks all afternoon, unsure of what to do with himself. He hated having a schedule or a plan. His own spontaneity was one of the few delights his life held and knowing he couldn't get too soused or disappear into the night was a definite downer. He didn't understand how people stuck to routines when unpredictability was so tuff.

He could go over to the Curtis' he guessed, but really, it was getting too depressing to mention over there. Even Two-Bit's pain in the ass humour would have been a welcome change to the general melancholy of the group. Soda was walking around like the world was about to end, and Darry- well, Darry's misery was what got to him most. They were his boys, they always would be, but fuck, it wasn't as bad as they all thought. Pony and Johnny were safe. For now anyway.

Mind you, he'd never been good in an emotional crisis. When the Curtis' Mom died, his only contribution to the sorrow had been giving himself bronchitis from the endless cigarettes he had smoked. Whenever somebody had started crying, whenever the words got even slightly heavy, Dal was reaching for his cigarettes.

Sylvia always called him an emotional retard. When her Dad had remarried and she came looking for him, all teary, her make up a mess, she had gotten so pissed at his response.

"Whaddya want me to do about it?" He had asked, bewildered.

He'd stared at her as she started yelling blue murder, cussing like she usually only did when she was drunk. It had made no sense to him at all. He was asking her a straight forward question. What did she want HIM to do about her Dad getting married?

Dallas Winston could beat the hell out of guys who had pissed her off, he could score her booze when she and her girlfriends wanted some, and he wasn't totally above loaning her a few bucks now and then, but really, what could he do about her Dad getting hitched?

"Is Buck around?"

Dallas glanced up from the coaster he was peeling to look at a small balding man with intense looking eyes and invariably bad skin.

Dallas gave the guy a long look.

"Buck!"

"For Christ's sake, Winston!" Buck came barrelling into the bar area, looking mightily pissed at being disturbed again. Even for Buck, he'd been in a foul mood all day. Apparently, he wanted to see the guy at the bar even less than he did Dallas.

"Another beer here," Dallas put in, watching Buck look uneasily at the stranger.

"What do you want?"

The question wasn't for Dallas.

"I already told you," the guy smiled thinly and Buck seemed to shrink in front of him, his skin paling to an even less flattering hue than usual.

"Listen, not now okay? I'm busy, I got work to do-" Buck was flustered, panicked even and Dallas decided he must owe money out. The guy kinda looked like a loan shark come to think of it.

"We can do this out back or we can do this right here," the man spread out his hands on the bar and nodded at Dallas. Buck looked even more alarmed and before Dallas could say a word, he was lifting the counter up and ushering the man out the back.

Dallas didn't give a shit. All he wanted was another beer.

Deciding to help himself, he lifted up the counter and rounded the bar, reaching for the bottled beers.

The song on the juke box ended just then and in the silence that filled the virtually empty room, he heard the high pitched squeal that could only be coming from one person. Buck.

Dallas paused for a second, contemplating intervention. If Buck had gotten himself into debt, that was his problem. But this guy _had _walked right onto Dallas' turf. That was all the contemplation he needed. Opening the door to the back room, he slipped silently inside.

The room was dark and shadowy, the only light coming from the kitchen doorway at the far end. Buck and the stranger were arguing in the kitchen, and from what Dallas could make out, the man had Buck by the throat.

"Look, I'll pay you whatever you want!" Buck's voice was desperate and Dallas couldn't help but roll his eyes. Just as expected, Buck was in debt.

The man laughed chillingly.

"You sure as hell will, or these pictures will find themselves in every mail box on this side of town,", Pictures? Dallas was dumbfounded. This didn't sound like a debt problem at all.

"I told you I'll pay! Just give them here," Buck tried to reach for a sheaf of photographs Mr Shifty was holding, but the groan that followed told Dallas that he hadn't been very successful.

He moved forward quietly and was leaning on the kitchen door frame before either of them noticed he was there.

"What's this? A mother's meeting?" He cocked his eyebrow like Mathews always did, and gave them his very best smirk.

"Mind your own business, Kid." Though small, the stranger gave Dallas a dangerous look which he matched with one of his own.

"This place is my business," he responded in a low growl. "Now give him the pictures."

Buck, who had been frozen on Dallas' intervention, suddenly spoke up at the mention of the pictures.

"Just leave it, Winston. I got it all under control."

Dallas looked at him. Buck was shaking like he was outside in his underwear. Dallas was sure that he'd piss himself at any given second.

Giving Buck as much attention as he usually did, Dallas turned and held out his hand for the pictures.

The guy looked at him in disbelief as if he was stupid for even asking for them, but quick as a flash, Dallas had one hand on the guys left arm and one hand on his right wrist, the hand that held the photos. He used his knee and some considerable force to box the guy into a corner of the kitchen and then started bending his wrist back.

"I'd let go if I were you," he warned the man, as he struggled. He didn't know why he said that. He didn't give a shit if the guy dropped the photos or not. He'd already decided he was breaking his wrist. The satisfying crunch as it broke and the scream of pain that the man let out was the climax of the struggle.

Dallas shoved him away but still obstructed his exit.

"Now, if you have any copies of these photos, get rid of 'em. And if you bother Buck again, it won't just be your wrist I'm breaking. You dig?"

The guy stared at his limp wrist, nodding in horror as he observed its unnatural angle.

Satisfied he'd gotten his message across, Dallas stepped aside and reached for his pack of Kools.

The guy rushed out of the kitchen, through the back room and out into the bar. As soon as he was gone, Buck reached down and started to frantically pick up the pictures.

Dallas lit a cigarette and looked down at Buck in amusement. The guy was sweating like he'd been running track.

"What the fuck was that about?" He asked, blowing smoke down onto Buck's thinning head of hair.

Buck didn't answer, scrambling around as he tried to round up all the photographs.

Curiously, Dallas reached down for one that had landed near his feet.

"No, stop!" Buck screamed, just as Dallas realised what the photos were of.

Buck, at the back door of the bar, kissing a guy. A fucking guy. It was dark, clearly taken at night, but there was no doubt about it. Buck was a fag.

Dallas snatched up another photo and then another. Buck, now his secret was out, lost all panic. He stood, almost lifeless, as Dallas snatched up the remainder of the photos from Buck's hands and went through every one. They were all of Buck with the same guy. In fact, Dallas thought he recognised him.

"Is that the fucking delivery guy?"

It was the only sentence he could get out and Buck in return, could only muster a miserable nod.

Dallas dropped one hand, the photos hanging at his side as he took a much needed pull of his cigarette.

Things were starting to fall into place now. Buck's clear disinterest for women, the way he could be uncharacteristically secretive even though his mouth had been known to run away with him.

Being gay in Tulsa was the kind of secret you'd want to protect.

"Fuck," he breathed.

He scratched his head as he looked at Buck. He didn't know any homosexuals. At least he didn't think he did. Now thinking about it, maybe he knew more of them than he thought.

Buck stood like a man condemned, his head hung, tears in his eyes.

"I tried to ignore it," he whispered croakily. "I tried for so long."

That was too much information as far as Dallas was concerned. He didn't wanna hear about it.

"Shit, Buck. Go find a priest if you wanna start confessing to someone."

Buck looked up at him resignedly.

"And the photos?"

Dallas knew what he held in his hand was as valuable as gold dust in Buck's eyes. He knew he had enough leverage right here to entitle himself to a free ride for life. He also knew that Buck would be more than happy with the trade.

"Knock yourself out, buddy," He held out the photos and watched in amusement as Buck tentatively reached for them, almost sure that Dallas would yank them out of reach at the last second. When the photos were in his Buck's hands, he looked down at them in confusion before looking back at Dallas.

"You're not gonna tell anyone?" He asked in hopeful astonishment.

Dallas took another drag on his cigarette.

"Hey, whatever floats your boat, buddy. As long as I don't have to look at those again."

Dallas moved away, feeling Buck's eyes boring into his back, and still not understanding himself just why he'd thrown that opportunity away.

It could only be, he told himself, that unpredictability was tuff.


	10. Driving Into The Sunrise

**Driving into the Sunrise**

**Yes, I know. Even I thought this would never be finished. But here it is. Late as hell, but finished all the same.**

**Hinton owns.**

Dallas was leaning on his pool cue, waiting for Dennis Fraser to give him an answer and pretending that he hadn't seen Sylvia pull up a chair a few feet away. She looked especially hot tonight in a new red dress and she was sipping vodka and tonic with a thin slice of lemon perched on the rim of her tall glass. It had to be understood though; he wasn't watching her.

Fraser was still shaking his head.

"Fifty dollars, Winston? That's an unfair advantage, you live here. I don't got a pool table at home."

Dallas saw Fraser's point. Yeah, he did live at Bucks with the pool table downstairs, but when he did use it, it was usually when the place was empty and the lights were out. It was incredibly distracting for him when he thought about the many times he'd taken Sylvia right in the table's centre.

"Quit your whining, Fraser. Tell you what; you can bring in your buddy. And I'll have any partner. In fact, you can choose." Dallas used a hand to gesture at the crowd, and Fraser looked around for a moment or so before turning back to Dallas with a smile.

"Alright, I'm in. And I choose your ex-girlfriend."

It kinda pissed Dallas off Fraser knew that he and Sylvia had split. They had sort of made it up that night at her place but then the whole thing of throwing Jimmy out the window and breaking her brother's cheekbone had occurred. Then he thought they'd made it up upstairs in his room, but she'd cut the fucking crotch out of all his jeans. He didn't know where that left them.

It seemed to Dallas that everybody had heard about Sylvia and Jimmy Carol. He didn't even know Fraser too well, he'd met him through Shepard and he'd played a few rounds of poker with him and his buddy, Michael.

Sylvia overheard Fraser's proposal and looked over at him. Dallas scowled at her.

"I meant a guy, man. Chicks don't count."

"You said any partner, Winston." Fraser smirked. "So quit your whining."

Dallas gritted his teeth as Fraser used his own words against him. He waited for Sylvia to protest about playing but she was already putting down her glass and resting her purse on the pool table. Before he knew what was happening, she was accepting a cue from Fraser's friend, Michael.

"So, how do I hold this thing again?" Sylvia giggled at Michael. Dallas rolled his eyes as Michael demonstrated and nodded at Fraser in a business like fashion.

"So who's breaking?"

"Hey." Fraser put a gracious hand to his chest and smiled at Sylvia. "Ladies first. Go ahead, sweetheart."

"Thanks." Sylvia chalked her cue like a clumsy kid before leaning over the table and lining up her shot. It was impossible not to look at her glorious bust as the red dress strained against her chest. Dallas just about tore his eyes away as she hit two balls neatly into the same pocket and straightened up with a grin of surprise.

"Wow," she said gleefully. "Do I get another turn now?"

"Sure," Fraser grinned back at her. "Take another shot."

His smile was quickly wiped from his face as Sylvia potted a third ball and then a fourth. Dallas thought she was going to clear the table entirely, but on the black, she got stuck in an awkward position and missed it by millimetres.

"Holy shit, she's a shark."

Michael was amazed but Fraser was glowering at Dallas and shaking his head furiously.

"You set me up, man. This was a fucking set up."

"Hey, you picked for me." Dallas shrugged casually. "I let you pick any person in the joint and you chose her. In fact, I tried to talk you out of it."

Their game had drawn quite a crowd, pulling the dancers towards the table, giving Sylvia the attention she loved. Now though, Sylvia was done, sashaying away to pick up her drink and take a suggestive sip. The damn show off hadn't even broken a sweat.

Fraser looked at Michael and gestured helplessly toward the table.

"You go ahead. I ain't got a chance of beating that."

Michael was good, Dallas observed. He made two of his shots, neither at easy angles but missed on the third.

The white ball was now at the south end of the table near the left corner and the black was at the north end right corner. The trouble was both north end pockets were obstructed by Michael and Fraser's balls.

Dallas half wished that Sylvia was taking this shot. Her brother had had a pool table in their garage since they were kids and she was a hell of a lot better at this game than he was. Still, the crowd were watching in anticipation and he was never going to hand over his cue, let alone to a girl.

He remembered playing pool with Darry once down at the bowling halls, and Darry talking to him about angles and probability. He wished he'd paid a little more attention now. Darry was a pretty decent player.

Still, Dallas was good at winging it. It was the only way he knew how. Drawing back the cue and aiming for the right hand side of the ball, he took his shot.

And what do you know? It knocked the black swiftly toward the north end's left pocket, slipped by the obstructing ball and went in smoothly. Game over.

The crowd cheered and clapped him on the back while Fraser scowled and reached into his pocket for his wallet.

Dallas took his winnings as cool as ice, not letting on for a second that there had been any doubt he would make the shot. Sylvia raised her eyebrows at him familiarly and he hated the inevitable stirring in his crotch. Man, it must be sweet to be a broad. They expected not to pay for anything, to use sex as a weapon but then they still cried out for sexual equality. And you couldn't even bust their heads for being such a pain in the ass. Talk about having your cake and eating it...

"I think you owe me a drink," Sylvia said breezily, pushing her way towards the bar. Dallas put down his cue, giving Fraser one more shit eating grin, before following.

At the bar, side by side on stools, and hidden from the view of the pool table, Dallas and Sylvia were snickering like a pair of sixth graders.

"Did you see his face when he realised you could play? What a fucking moron." Dallas felt like his sides would split if he laughed any more, but even through her laughter, Sylvia was all business.

"So where's my cut, Winston?" She tapped the bar top and he immediately stopped laughing and stared her down.

"We never agreed on a cut. This was my deal."

"Which you never would have won without me."

"Says you, doll. I had it all under control."

Sylvia looked at him scathingly but he didn't look away, his piercing blue eyes boring into her coldly.

"You can have ten, but that's it," he said, sliding a ten dollar note her way. In all truth, he would have given her half but he needed money for gas and food tomorrow when he went to visit Johnny and the kid.

Sylvia picked up the ten dollar note, slightly damp from resting on the counter, and shook it off meaningfully.

"I guess I'll accept," she said. "I mean, you do need to do some pants shopping pretty soon..."

She always had to push her fucking luck.

"Buck, gimme a beer." He held out a five dollar note, but had his hand pushed immediately away.

"It's on the house." Buck winked at him and Dallas shrugged. He wasn't going to argue with that.

"Sylvia? Vodka and Tonic?" Buck offered, and Sylvia smiled and tossed her blond curls.

"Sure," she purred, whispering to Dallas once Buck was out of ear shot. "What's with him?"

"Fuck knows."

As they sipped their drinks, a low but commanding voice from behind them said;

"Well, if it isn't my favourite couple."

Dallas felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and turned quickly to see who the culprit was. He relaxed at the sight of a familiar if smug face.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

"Why? You missed me?" Tim Shepard pulled up a seat on his other side.

"Sure, Shepard. I been crying myself to sleep at night. So, where the fuck have you been?"

Tim told him about Nicky Gavel's kid brother getting jumped and in turn, Dallas told him about the Soc's who had jumped Two-Bit.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," Tim said. His voice was calm but Dallas could tell he was pissed by the way he clenched his beer bottle. "We've organised a rumble, Soc against Greaser. No weapons, fists only, this Saturday night. You in?"

Dallas looked at him dryly.

"'You know a rumble ain't a rumble without me."

Sylvia bristled uncomfortably beside him but he ignored it. She was always tense at the thought of him fighting. It pissed him off some; she should know by now he was near invincible.

"So are you buying me a drink or what, you bum?" Dallas nudged Shepard. "I caught it pretty fucking bad offa Carter the other day."

He didn't need a drink. He had a fresh one in front of him and it looked like they'd be on the house all night. But what the hell. Why not spend Shepard's money?

Tim laughed, a rarity for him, but it still never quite met his cool grey eyes.

"Yeah, I heard you showed up later with a face all colors of the rainbow. I'm just sorry I missed it."

Dallas put a hand to his face, a fading bruise the only remnant of his tangle with the police. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Lucky for you, I heal fast, motherfucker."

"Lucky for _you_, Winston. For me, it ain't so great. Same again here." Tim indicated himself, Dallas and Sylvia to Buck's barman who came back with two beers and another Vodka tonic. "Any news on the Curtis kid?"

It annoyed Dallas that Tim only asked about Pony but he supposed since Pony used to hang out with Curly, he didn't know Johnny as good.

"Nope." Dallas took a swig of his beer, conscious of the fact that both Tim and Sylvia were waiting for him to elaborate. They could carry on waiting, for all he cared. He wasn't telling nobody nothing.

"Sure." Tim paid for the drinks, his tone letting Dallas know he didn't believe him for a second.

"So, Tim...there's something I been meaning to ask you..." Dallas trailed off casually, before dropping his favourite line. "How IS your little sister?"

Disappointingly, Tim didn't bite. In fact, he gave Dallas another rare grin. Two in one night, Dallas was sure his face would break.

"Oh, she's fine, Winston, real swell. How's your pal, Jimmy?"

_Shit._ Dallas should have guessed Tim would hear about Jimmy Carol. Sylvia stiffened on the other side of him as he considered picking another fight.

"Quits?" Tim asked meaningfully.

Dallas sighed, deciding that getting thrown in the cooler wasn't an option this evening.

"Quits," he mumbled unenthusiastically.

Dallas stood on Buck's front porch, smoking a kool in his bare feet as he watched the sun start to rise in the distance. He should be getting off soon, nice and early so nobody could ask any questions.

He felt full of energy at the thought of seeing them; little Johnny and even the book swotting kid. Soda's letter sat nestled safely in the front pocket of his shirt, something he was sure would bring a smile to the kid's face. Whoever would have thought it? Johnny Cade and Ponyboy Curtis up on a murder charge.

He flicked the last of the cigarette into the dust and stared thoughtfully into space for a moment, wondering what advice to give the two of them. He knew they'd be pissing their pants waiting for him to come up with a plan, but the way he saw it, there were only two options. They could come home and face the music. Or they could keep running. He knew which one he'd choose.

Dallas didn't like jail. He didn't like the sound of the keys in the locks, he didn't dig sharing a room with a stranger either. He hated jail food, he hated the guards, and he despised the fact that he was holed up with some real scummy characters. Not that he disliked criminals as a rule, but some of the people inside had no morals whatsoever. Guys who had beaten up their girlfriends, robbed their grandmothers or tried to blame their crime on their buddies. Dallas hated those kinds of guys.

He tried to think about Johnny in jail and the thought made him sick. He'd seen guys bigger and braver than Johnny eaten alive in the joint. Even _he_ had had a tough time on his first stint and he had always been a mean little bastard. Of course, he got meaner inside.

"You're up early."

Dallas jumped at the voice breaking into his thoughts but relaxed when he realised it was only Buck.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"How's Sylvia?" Buck asked him. Dallas had had to carry her upstairs last night after she'd gotten so drunk, she could barely stand. It had been a good time though. He and Shepard had played poker with a few other guys and then Two Bit had showed up and they started talking about the good old days when Mr and Mrs Curtis were around and Darrel had been a jock. His team mates, mostly Soc's, could never believe that Darry had friends like them. Darry though, had never been prouder when they shouted his name from the stands.

"She's still asleep." Dallas gestured towards the upstairs floor. He'd left her sprawled out on the pillows, giving her hair a ruffle and her cheek a rough kiss.

"You going somewhere?" Buck asked him, and Dallas didn't care what Buck suspected. He knew he'd guard whatever he discovered about Dallas with his own life now Dallas had the power to ruin him.

"Soon," Dallas replied.

Buck pulled the keys to the thunderbird out of his pocket and threw them towards him. Dallas caught them deftly, not saying thanks. Well, that saved him from jumping the train.

"You okay for money?"

Dallas started to feel a little uncomfortable. He didn't want Buck's handouts just because Buck was scared he'd blab. Him being so willing was taking the fun out of everything.

"I'm okay," he responded. "And you ain't gotta keep doin' this. I said I won't say nothing and I won't."

Buck looked down at the peeling porch, embarrassed.

"I know you won't," he said in his thick southern drawl. "I just want you to know how much I 'preciate it."

"Message received," Dallas told him, giving him a mock salute. "Jesus, one minute I'm the worst thing that ever happened to you, then you're kissing ass like I've got a terminal disease."

Buck looked astonished.

"I know we butt heads, Winston, but I always figured we got along underneath it all. You might even say we were... friends. To tell you the truth, I kind of think of you as a little brother."

Dallas was unexpectedly touched.

"You're too ugly for us to be related, Merril."

"Aw, c'mon, Dal. I know you ain't as mean as you pretend to be. I know your friends would move heaven and earth for you and I know when those two kids got in trouble last week, you were the first person they came to."

Dallas considered what Buck was saying for a moment. His boys were pretty tuff the way they had his back. And he knew Johnny and Pony looked up to him, even though they probably shouldn't. That didn't mean he wasn't a nasty piece of work though. He'd been a rotten apple since the day he was born. Both of his parents could vouch for that.

"I'm meaner than you know, Buck."

"Kid, you know how many people would turn a blind eye to what you found out yesterday?" Buck was really intent on having a heart to heart, a pastime that Dallas really didn't have the stomach for.

"I got no business with anyone's business but my own." He shrugged, hoping to end Buck's bullshit before he really got going.

The truth was, people who were different didn't bother Dallas. Supposed social deviants like Gays, Blacks and Jews were labelled just like he was for being poor and jobless. They were all outsiders, just for different reasons.

The first year Dallas had started at the rodeo riding for Buck, he had seen the best rodeo jockey he'd ever seen in his life. Glory, this guy was like an acrobat on horseback and so unbelievably watchable because you could see he had a genuine pleasure for what he did. The rodeo crowd hated him though. They shouted insults, threw beer bottles, and booed and jeered when he did just about anything. And all because he was a black guy from New Orleans.

When the rider finally pulled out because of the abuse he was given, the other riders were smug and proud of themselves. Dallas was the only guy who was pissed about it. Not because he was a black rights activist but because every rodeo he won felt like less of an achievement. He had wanted to beat the best riders around, but in his mind, the best rider around had been forced out for no reason at all.

"I just think you're a pretty decent guy underneath it all," Buck said softly.

Dallas looked over at shabby Buck in the half light, his eyes clouded over, a soft smile on his weathered face. Dallas hit him hard in the shouder.

"Don't go spreading that around, y'hear? Besides the fact that it's bullshit, I got a rep to protect, you dig?"

Buck struggled to keep his balance beneath the impact of Dallas' punch. He rubbed his arm vigorously in the spot he'd been hit, but he was still smiling.

"Whatever you say, kid."

Dallas decided it was time to leave.

"If anyone asks, you haven't seen me." He started to stride towards the thunderbird.

Buck hurried after him.

"What about Sylvia?"

Dallas unlocked the driver's door and clambered inside.

"I said anyone, didn't I?"

Buck shook his head.

"I don't know why she puts up with you..."

"Because I'm the only person who knows how to handle her," Dallas smirked. "I'm outta here."

Dallas jammed the car into gear and backed out of the parking lot, causing Buck to jump clear of the cloud of dust he left behind. He took a last look at Buck in his rear view mirror. The older man stood with hands on his hips, squinting with eyes that had always needed glasses, and smiling a near toothless smile.

If Dallas had known that would be the last time he saw him, he might have said thanks for putting up with his shit, and maybe even shook his hand. He might have told him that the future locking up of his room like some morbid shrine was fucking stupid and a goddamn waste of money to boot.

And if he had known that mornings hurried kiss on Sylvia's soft cheek would be his last, he might have taken her in his arms and kissed her the way she liked to be kissed. He would have told her that collapsing at his funeral like a wailing banshee was not an option and instructed her to grow up and pull her shit together.

And maybe if he'd had the time after the upcoming rumble, he would have pulled Steve aside and told him to take it easy on Syl. After all, he had never been particularly good to her and him being dead didn't change that. Besides, she'd be lost without him; lost and heartbroken.

As for Soda, he could have told Soda to quit pining after Sandy because no broad was worth that kind of hassle. Soda had always had that irritating talent of attracting the hottest girls around, and a talent like that was wasted on a chick pregnant with some other dude's kid.

Perhaps it was Darry he would have spoken to the most sincerely because he was truly sorry for hiding his kid brother and lying to his face. And when he'd known his last moments were upon him, it was Darry's voice he wanted to hear on the other end of the phone. He guessed Darry was the big brother he had never had.

There was no doubt in Dallas' mind, he would have shook some sense into Two-Bit, maybe pounded on him too, because becoming a drunk and blaming it on his absence was a punk ass thing to do. Even for him.

Yeah, if Dallas Winston had seen what was coming, Tim Shepard would have been quickly informed that keeping an eye on old man Winston was an insult not a favour to him. Dallas would have sooner seen the twenty dollars Shepard slipped Bob here and there go to Travis' police retirement fund. And that was saying something.

Perhaps he would have given the pansy ass kid a dead arm for blaming himself over his and Johnny's deaths. Perhaps he would have stood at Johnny' bedside and told him to face death like a man because it got us all in the end. Besides, Dallas would be following shortly, watching his back as he always had.

But even if he had foreseen the brewing storm, the trouble was that 'maybes' and 'perhaps' weren't Dallas' style. It was to be a short life but he'd always lived every day like his last anyway, so screw the goodbyes.

His head was clear and cool as he threw a casual arm across the passenger seat and slumped down in his seat. Some soft rock was playing on the radio as he clamped a cigarette between his teeth and squinted at the rising sun. It looked as though he were driving straight into it the way it sat, gleaming and golden, at the end of the road.

He bet that Pony would have made a real big deal out of it, but truth be told, all the brilliant light did was give him a headache and obscure his view.

He dug around in the car until he came up with a pair of sunglasses. Slipping them on, he fixed his face with his famous smirk, and floored the gas pedal.


End file.
